


behind bars

by bail



Category: American Idol RPF, Bandom: The Anthemic
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, M/M, Multi, Non Consensual, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Prison, Sexual Assault, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-10
Updated: 2011-06-10
Packaged: 2017-10-20 07:35:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 57,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/210301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bail/pseuds/bail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When eighteen-year-old David Archuleta is attacked on the street, his life changes drastically. In a confusing court decision, he's sentenced to seventeen months in a high security prison -- for murder. But he's far from criminal, and the question isn't whether he deserves to be there… but if he can survive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	behind bars

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** David Cook, David Archuleta and et al. belong to themselves. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
>  **A/N:** If you prefer to read it on livejournal, then the link to the masterpost is [here](http://bail.livejournal.com/7392.html)!
> 
> This started out as a small vignette over at [cookleta_etc](http://cookleta-etc.livejournal.com/) back in May 2010. It was never meant to continued, but several people told me to go on and that I couldn't stop there. So I started writing. And writing. And now, ten or so months later, it is finally finished at just a bit more than 57k. I never expected it to be this long, never imagined that I could write this much on a self-made prompt.
> 
> I'd like to say thanks to [yehwellwhatever](http://yehwellwhatever.livejournal.com/) for being my own personal cheerleader and for sticking with me during all those months, encouraging me to go on when I wasn't sure if I should continue or give up. This fic would never have happened (or been finished) without you, and I'm forever grateful for your help and wise words, I hope you know that. Furthermore, you were the one who requested Andy Skib/Kris Allen. At first I was a bit hestitant about writing that pairing, but it quickly grew on me, and now I love the thought of them together, so thank you.
> 
> Then I'd also like to say thanks for all the betaing and lovely words to [aohatsu](http://aohatsu.livejournal.com/). You came around just when I hit my writer's block, and you helped me pick up where I had left off. You gave me several ideas and asked me questions about things I hadn't even considered, forcing me to decide and write it down.
> 
>   
>    
> book cover art by the lovely [aohatsu](http://aohatsu.livejournal.com/)  
> 

_"Vile deeds like poison weeds bloom well in prison air,  
it is only what is good in man that wastes and withers there."_   
Oscar Wilde (1854 - 1900), the Ballad of Reading Gaol

  


~

Despite summer supposedly being in its dying throes, this particular day is warm and sunny. Grasshoppers chirrup softly, creating a gentle harmony to accompany the birds' many varied songs. Every now and then a gentle breeze stir and the trees sway enthusiastically in response, lifting their branches and spreading all the leaves so it can pass between. It is a whole other world, so vast and intriguing, but which humans so infrequently take the time to witness; most because they don't care much, but others because they are deprived from this option.

The line of new inmates walk down the barely lit and cold corridor, one guard in the front, two to the sides and two at the back, all of them following their every move closely. The shackles around their legs and arms create a harsh mix of noise, which makes David's heart race twice as fast as usual and his blood hammer loudly in his veins. He is the last in a line of ten or so inmates, though he hasn't dared to look up to count. Besides, he is still trying to process the fact that from now on this prison will be his home, something that just thinking about it makes his eyes water and his breath hitch in his throat.

They are nearing the end of the corridor, and just as David is about to turn around the corner like the others, a hand reaches out to stop him. His shackles rattle slowly, though the sound is no longer that loud as the other prisoners seem to continue on without him.

"Johns," says one of the two guards still remaining in the now empty corridor.

"Go on Luke," says the guard preventing David from continuing on around the corner. David wonders what is going on, and as he looks up he sees the other guard, Luke, nod twice before turning around the corner (not even bothering to look at David), he starts to worry.

He swallows, nervously waiting what is to come. He doubts it can be anything good, and he cannot stop from flinching when the guard, Johns, places a big hand on his shoulder, strong fingers digging into his dark blue shirt with the word 'inmate' written on the back of it in big, bold, white letters.

"Listen Archuleta," says Johns sharply. David doesn't know where to look, afraid that if he looks up he will have broken some kind of unspoken rule or something like that, because gosh, David has totally seen a couple of prison movies and even that TV show, Prison Break, or whatever it was called. Johns, however, seems to notice his hesitation, and says in a bit gentler tone of voice, "If you want to survive in there, then don't say no to Cook's offer. Trust me."

David's head tilts slightly to the side as he looks confusedly at Johns, trying to take in the guard's warning. His mouth opens, trying to find the correct words, but before he has a chance to say anything, the tall guard continues, "You are exactly his type, and he will come to you. He's not all that bad of a bloke, and yeah..." Johns shrugs. "He and Tiemann will keep you safe as long as you..." Again, Johns' words trail off.

"Um," he says confused, not sure what to say. He isn't entirely certain what Johns is talking about, but then he remembers all the stories he has heard about prisons, and even what happened in some of the movies, and slowly he starts to comprehend Johns warning – or suggestion really, depending on how you decide to look at it. Most importantly, David now has an idea, undesirable as it is, about how to survive in here.

"Oh," he says, surprised. Then, "oh," again, this time in a deflated whisper, head slowly bowing until his eyes are on the floor once more. He shivers as the coldness of the corridor goes through the provided inmate clothes and all the way into his bones as the words slowly seep in, right alongside the coldness.

Johns squeezes his shoulder – strong fingers digging into his flesh for a couple of seconds, in what David assumes is supposed to be in a comforting way – and then pushes him forward to start walking again. He stumbles over his own feet, blushing as Johns' grip on his arm tightens to prevent him from falling. He mutters a thank you, or at least he thinks he does. His lips definitely moved, but he isn't quite sure if any sound managed to escape, and at the moment, he doesn't quite care. The guard mutters something underneath his breath and if David has been paying more attention to the guard, he would have been able to catch the words, but right now he is too distraught to do that.

"Heads up," says Johns, and David looks up, noticing that they have now reached the entry to the cells. His tongue darts out to lick his lips which have gone dry, his hands clenching into fists as he tries to square his shoulders and not look too pathetic in the process. But as the door moves to the side to allow them to enter cellblock H, David's eyes lower once again to the cemented floor as his back hunches over in an attempt to make himself as small as possible, hoping to go unnoticed. There is no way he is going to survive this, he thinks, and when the line starts to walk again, David follows closely behind the guy in front of him.

~

His cell – his _home_ for the next seventeen months, he reminds himself – has been empty since he got there. It is clear though, that he will be sharing it with someone else. One side of the wall is covered with a couple of pictures. David doesn't dare to take a closer look at them, afraid that his cellmate will notice and think he is snooping around. So instead he looks at them from a distance for a few silent moments before turning his gaze to the rest of the cell. The top bunk is made, indicating that it is already taken, which David doesn't mind all that much. He has never been great with heights, so it is with relief that he sits down on the lower bunk, mattress still bare. He knows he will need to fix it soon, preferably before his cellmate returns from wherever he is right now. But he cannot make himself care at the moment.

He has no idea how long he has been sitting there, just staring at the wall, but when he finally looks away from it, someone is standing in the opening of the cell, looking intently at him. The guy probably isn't as big as he seems, but considering that David is far from tall himself and currently sitting down, the guy might as well be a giant.

Finally, the dark-haired guy enters the cell completely and leans up against the wall right in front of David, one foot popped up against the wall as his arms cross over his chest. "So," he says, and David exhales soundlessly. If you could categorize someone judging by their voice, this guy doesn't sound that bad. "I had no idea that they let _kids_ into prisons these days."

The guy sounds bored, yet his voice has a soft edge to it. Almost as if he cares about David's wellbeing, which is probably ridiculous to even think, seeing as they totally don't know each other. Still, as much as David feels like a kid, he gets a sudden urge to defend himself.

"I'm not a kid," he says defiantly. The guy lifts an eyebrow and just stares at David, and David in return blushes under the stare, proving just how much of a kid he is. "I me—mean," he stammers, the words refusing to leave his mouth properly as they are supposed to, "I'm eighteen. So I'm not, you know, technically a kid anymore."

"Uh-huh," says the guy, mouth quirking slightly, "If you say so kiddo." David's mouth opens automatically to correct him, but closes quickly when he sees the look the guy gives him, both eyebrows raised in surprise as if he hadn't expected David to even consider saying something. It is almost as if he is daring David to say what he wants to say, but David has never been good with confrontations. Instead he opts to close his mouth and remain silent.

"Good call," says the dark-haired man, leaning down until their faces are so close that David can feel the guy's breath on his face. And gosh, David totally thinks that this is one of those defining moments or whatever they are called in the shows, where one cellmate dictates how it's going to be for the time they will be sharing together. David's eyes lower to the ground, nervous for what will happen, various scenarios playing through his head, each one worse than the next. They both stay like that for a few long moments, neither of them saying anything.

"Good call," says the man again, voice quiet and gentle, and finally moves away. David feels like he just missed something vital. He looks at the floor, pondering if this maybe was prison bonding or something like that.

"Dinner is in half an hour, so you should probably get your bed fixed before then." David looks up to see the guy standing in the doorway again, one foot already out of the cell. "I'm Andy Skib by the way."

And because David comes from a home where they have learned good manners and how to respect their superiors (in all senses of the word) he gets up and holds out his hand. "I'm David," he says. Nothing happens though. "Archuleta," he adds, when the guy just looks at David's outstretched hand. Then the guy laughs, head falling forward until his chin rests on his chest, the half-long dark hair shielding his face from David's eyes.

"Good to know," the guy finally says, starting to raise his hand but then promptly lets it fall again down along his side when two inmates walk past them. Then he leaves the cell completely, leaving David standing there with a hand dangling in the air, feeling not only incredible confused but also mildly stupid for introducing himself so formally. After all, this is prison. Not school, and definitely not church. This is an entirely new world, and he dreads the moment he will have to leave the cell, because he isn't sure what the rules are and how to play by them. So in order to keep himself from over thinking all of this, he turns around and starts to make his bed. _This_ he knows how to do.

It doesn't take him nearly as long as he had hoped it would though, and less than four minutes later, he is once again back to just staring at the gray wall, though this time he is sitting on top of a perfectly well-made bed. His eyes keep returning to the small batch of pictures hanging on the wall, but he refuses to let his curiosity get the better of him. After all, Andy Skib could return at any moment, and he doesn't want to be caught looking at the other man's belongings, as he is pretty sure that this will cause a much stronger reaction than just laughing at him.

He wonders what Andy Skib will say if he put up his own pictures of his family. Maybe he is supposed to ask if it is okay first. This is another thing he isn't so sure about. This was Andy Skib's cell first, so maybe he has to like, ask for permission before he does something. Is that a prison rule? He wishes someone had given him a set of guidelines he could follow. Not the prison's guidelines, but the inmates' guidelines.

He hears people walk by the cell, but most don't even look inside the cell. And those who do glance his way don't say anything or make any kind of gesture that that they have even noticed him. It is almost as if he is invisible in here in the darkness of the cell, and for once in his life, David is glad to go by unnoticed. For the first time since his arrest, he silently prays to God for strength to survive in here.

~

He is tempted not to go to dinner. He really, really is. But the longer he waits, the more noise his stomach seems to make, growling and demanding to be fed in an almost comical way that reminds him of when he would be so caught up in whatever he was doing at home that he forgot all about food until his stomach would complain and his mom would bring him something... He refuses to think about his mom right now, fully knowing that if he allows himself to take a walk down memory lane he will just end up crying like a baby. And because he refuses to behave like a kid (and because he knows that he won't be able to wait until breakfast the next day), he gets up from the bed and walks over to the open cell door.

"You gonna' step out of that cell?" asks a voice, kind and heavily accented. Southern, David thinks, as he looks at the man the voice belongs to. He isn't tall, maybe just a bit taller than David himself, and he looks pretty and young and not at all like someone who would belong in a prison. Though he never thought he would be in a prison himself either, so maybe he isn't such a good judge of character.

"You know," says the young man, taking a step towards David who in return takes a step further back into his cell again; back into safety – which is funny, because he has not even been here for half a day, and already he has been lulled into the assumption that the cell will be safe. He hopes, with all he is worth, that this will be more than just an assumption.

"Relax," says the man and stops walking closer, his hands raised up as if surrendering. "No need to be nervous. Ain't gonna' hurt you. Just thought you could use a friend, you know?" The guy's lips twitches, and soon David can spot a smile, though he notices that as genuine as the guy seems, the smile never does reach the eyes.

David glances warily at the man. Looks can be deceiving, that much he has learned from past experience. Still, he finds himself nodding. It is true, he could use a friend; he could use someone to explain the rules to him, and someone who he could talk to. And as they stand there, watching each other, David hopes that this man can be just that.

"I'm Kris Allen. You can call me Kris though. Or Allen, but I actually prefer Kris." The guy, Kris, smiles and holds out his hand for David to shake. David looks at the hand, silently appreciating the friendly gesture that he had tried to extend to Andy Skib earlier. He takes a step forward, raising his own arm, hand touching Kris' in a brief shake.

"I'm David Archuleta," he introduces himself, and smiles softly.

"I know," says Kris, and David lets go of Kris' hand and looks at the other inmate confused, smile slowly turning into a frown. "Andy told me come get you," explains Kris. "He thought you could use a friend. But even if he hadn't told me, I still would've come. Because everyone needs a friend, right?" Kris smiles, looking almost hopeful, and David finds himself returning the smile, though less enthusiastically than before. What does it mean when his cellmate thinks he needs a friend? Is it meant as a kind gesture or does Andy Skib have ulterior motives for doing this? Normally David would have thought only the best of people, giving them the benefit of the doubt, but after all he has been through, he isn't so sure if he can do just that.

"So, jug-up, yeah?" says Kris, nodding in the direction of the double doors at the other end. David has no idea what jug-up means, but before he gets a chance to say anything, his stomach answers for him, once again protesting at the lack of food. He blushes, biting nervously into his lower lip as he tends to do when he is worried, but Kris just smiles broadly and says, "Let's find some food for you."

They walked down the broad hall, heading towards the heavily guarded cafeteria. He sees the guard from before standing just inside the doors, holding onto a riffle. The guard nods at him as they walk past, and David is sure that Johns just smiled at him, but when he turns around to check, Johns is no longer looking at him and Kris.

They enter the line, and David has to force himself to stand straight and not walk pressed up against the wall, even though that is what he kind of wants to do right now. Kris, probably sensing his insecurity, looks understandingly at him before saying, "You gotta' relax. Otherwise you'll be dead meat before you've even made it out of the line."

 _Gosh._ He's pretty sure that Kris means it in the most positive way, but all it does is make him look over his shoulder every now and then to make sure that no one is standing behind him with a knife. Or something similarly sharp that could cause a lot of pain. He never was quite good with pain. He forces himself to inhale and exhale slowly, and by the time they leave the line with their trays, his breathing is normal again. Well, almost.

David looks around, and sees Andy Skib sitting with another guy at a table not that far away. The guy is covered in tattoos, permanent drawings running up along the arms and twirling around the neck. He swallows, and hopes that Kris won't be leading him to that table, but the fact that Kris had only come to his cell because Andy Skib had told him so lingers at the back of his mind, and correctly enough, they do head that way. The two men haven't noticed them yet though, and David seriously hopes that he will be able to remain unnoticed.

"Hi," says Kris as they approach the table, and David stops a few feet away as Kris sits down next to Andy Skib, uncertain as to what he ought to do. He watches as Andy Skib lifts his hand and places it on Kris' neck, gripping the hair tightly for a few seconds before petting the skin softly. Almost lovingly, he thinks, as he sees Kris relax into the hand.

The guy with the tattoos leans back a bit and looks David up and down, a disconcerting leer appearing on his lips. David proceeds to blush, his cheeks and neck coloring a nice pink as he looks down at his tray, suddenly finding the food mighty interesting.

"Sit," says the guy, voice rough as if he smokes a lot. The guy points at an empty place next to himself, and David just looks, his feet suddenly unable to walk any closer. "Don't make me say it again," says the guy irritably, and David nods anxiously before forcing his legs to move. It seems to take him forever to walk those final steps, but he finally makes it to the appointed seat and sits down, lowering his tray onto the steel table.

Kris smiles at him, and even the corner of Andy Skib's mouth turns somewhat up into a smile for a split second before he turns to the heavily tattooed man and picks up their conversation from where they had left it before. Or at least David thinks so. He doesn't pay attention, too caught up in trying not to freak out too much, which, um, yeah, that's probably not going as well as hoped. He is so lost in his own little world, trying to eat and breathe and just plain out function properly, when he hears a word, or a name more likely.

"What's with Cook?" he asks, and looks at Kris who stares at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging (unattractively) open. David swears he can see some food in there and his nose wrinkles in disgust, but then he remembers where he is so he quickly looks away, hoping Kris won't be like totally offended or something.

He returns his gaze to the southern inmate just as Kris closes his mouth and clears his throat, glancing quickly at Andy Skib and the tattoo guy next to David before asking, "You know Cook?" David doesn't need to see Kris' expression to notice that his new friend is confused, because it's all there in the voice: a bit shaky, squeaky even. David glances over at Johns briefly, before shaking his head 'no'. Kris, however, seems to have picked up the reason for David's inquiry, and grins knowingly, his worried expression slowly disappearing.

"Cook is, well, he's Andy and Tiemann's friend. I just asked when he would be out of dissociation." Kris winks at him, and David feels like they are sharing a secret, except he cannot for the life of him figure out what the secret is.

"Tomorrow," says the tattoo guy, Tiemann apparently, teeth gritting together as he looks at David. David remembers Johns' words about Cook and Tiemann, but he has to admit, that right now, Tiemann doesn't seem like the kind of guy who would keep guys like David safe. In fact, he looks like the kind of guy who wouldn't mind inflicting the pain. David shudders as an image of being hit repeatedly by the big tattooed hands over and over again enters his mind. He glances warily at the hands, noticing letters written on the fingers. _So it goes_ is what they say, and David gulps down some of his juice as he timidly shifts a bit in his seat.

"And don't speak unless spoken to," adds Tiemann, sounding impatient and looking like he is mere seconds away from decking David. Or maybe the hand twitching is all just in David's head, but he still nods and closes his mouth. He hunches over the table in a pathetic attempt to focus on his meal in front of him, but he finds that he no longer has any appetite, and his stomach no longer growls loudly but merely lets out these weird soft noises every now and then to remind David that the hunger won't go away from just looking at the food.

"Neal," says Andy Skib, voice stern. Nothing else is said though. Tiemann just huffs, and for the rest of the meal, no one speaks to him and he doesn't say a word either. It's uncomfortable to sit there, and he is grateful when Andy Skib and Tiemann seem to be finished with their meals and conversation. The two men stand first, and then Kris stands too, looking down at David.

"Let's talk."

~

David doesn't feel like he has gotten much sleep at all, and he could swear that he has been awake most of the night crying his eyes out (but he will never admit to that should anyone ask). So when David wakes the next morning, he is surprised to see Andy Skib already up and about, fully dressed. He rubs his eyes and finds traces of sleep in the corners, and he sits there surprised for a few seconds before he manages to pull himself together.

"I…" he starts to say, but then Andy Skib turns and looks directly at him and David can no longer remember what he wanted to say. His cellmate's eyes narrow somewhat and David thinks that maybe it's a good thing that he cannot remember it after all, because right now Andy Skib doesn't look all too friendly and he doesn't want to push his luck.

And then Andy Skib looks away, sighing profoundly, and David sits up properly on his bed, ducking his head in order not to hit the metal bars of the top bunk with his head.

He hears this weird beeping noise, and then someone walks by outside of their cell. He quickly gets up from the bed, moving carefully around the dark-haired inmate, doing his best not touch anything on his way to the small toilet in the corner.

Andy Skib looks at him, and David clears his throat nervously. He actually really has to pee, but he can't with someone watching. The other inmate seems to notice his difficulty with going in front of others, but instead of looking away like anyone else would have – heck, everyone knows from high school that you do not look at someone else while they are naked or peeing or whatever – Andy Skib just raises an eyebrow.

"I, um," David tries, but then stops, uncertain as to how to tell the other guy to stop looking. "Do you, eh, mind?" he asks, head tilting slightly to the side as he gazes at a spot right next to Andy Skib's head. The other guy doesn't say anything, just smiles and turns his head to look out into the hall. David exhales soundly, and then goes about his business, making sure that he doesn't take too long.

He has just managed to put on his second shoe when the beeping noise returns, and a voice says loud and clear for everyone to hear, "Stand in line for inspection."

Andy Skib moves out of the cell and stands on the black line that runs just about half a meter away from the cell. David sees other inmates stand on the same line, so he walks out and stands next to his cellmate. It is Johns who walks past them, looking up at their faces and then down at his clipboard. When Johns reaches him, the guard offers him a small smile, and David finds himself smiling back a little, because even though they are not standing on the same line, a friendly face is still a friendly face.

Andy Skib elbows him harshly on the shoulder, and David looks up at the other man, hurt and confused, and gasping for air as he tries to remain calm, because oh my heck that had really, really hurt. He is certain that there will be a bruise. No one says anything, but the guys standing on the line across the hall from them snickers just loud enough for David to hear. David glares at them hotly, trying to be brave and not be such a kid.

"Punks like you shouldn't be friendly with the hacks." It's not Andy Skib who tells him this, but the guy standing on David's other side. Though David was quickly introduced to the guy yesterday as he and Kris made their way back from the cafeteria to his cell, he has already forgotten the name. Carrico something, he thinks, but he could be mistaken. The guy is tall, and has longish blonde hair that is tied together in the back, and he looks kind of scruffy with a couple days worth of stubble. The slight under bite doesn't make him seem more appealing, David thinks. "We ain't liking the hacks in here," the guy continues, "and we ain't liking the punks who likes the hacks either."

David looks at the floor, even more perplexed than before. Was that even supposed to make sense?

Then the beeping noise returns for the third time, and the inmates break out of the line and all start to walk in the direction of the cafeteria. He automatically sticks close to Andy Skib, who completely ignores him. David is so lost in his own world that he feels the cold floor against his cheek before he even realizes that someone just tripped him.

"Oops," says a voice, laughing. David lifts his head to see one of the guys who had been snickering before. The guy glances down at David, practically leering, and David wishes that he had stayed in his cell today, because he has not even had breakfast yet and there is already someone picking on him? Then he remembers that Kris had actually predicted something like that to happen; had told David to be aware of his surroundings in here, to stick to those he could trust. The problem is David doesn't have anyone he can trust, not really, and apparently being friendly with guards isn't a good thing, which leaves him pretty much back at square one.

David places his hands on the floor and tries to push himself up to his knees, but a foot is placed on the small of his back, keeping him firmly attached to the floor. He tries to move, to squirm, but the foot just presses harder against his spine, and in the end he has to give up.

"Say sorry for walking into my mate here," says a new voice, and David turns his head to the other side and sees a slim guy who's so pale that even his eyelashes seem translucent under the kind of fluorescent light that the prison is using all over the place. David vaguely remembers Kris saying the guy's name was Colton or something like that, and also to steer clear from him – which yeah, too late for that. Whatever the guy's name is, he is definitely glaring at David as if David has wronged him somehow. He swallows and closes his eyes, worried for what might just happen here if he doesn't do as the guy says. He wonders why the heck none of the other inmates do anything about it or better yet, where in the world the guards have gone, because he could really use some help right about now.

Colton gets down on one knee and twists his fingers into David's hair, gripping it tightly and pulling until David's neck feels like it's about to break. "You've got a problem with your hearing, huh?" David tries to shake his head, but the fingers are wounded too tightly around his hair, so all he manages to do is let out a squeak of pain as his eyes starts to water.

"Let go of him," says a voice that David vaguely recognizes. Tiemann, he thinks, and when the person moves around and stands in front of them, David can see that true enough, it is Tiemann, if the tattoos on the hands and arms are anything to go by. There's another male standing with him, judging by the two pairs of legs next to each other, but David doesn't have time to consider who it might be when Colton slams his forehead down into the floor before releasing him. He cries out and curls together as his hands reach up to gently touch his aching forehead. There's no blood though, which is good, because he never was very good with blood, but oh, the pain is excruciating.

"How stupid are you Colton? For fucks sake. If you've got a problem, take it to the limbo room. Not out here in the open." Tiemann sounds angry, or maybe it's more like disappointed really, and that was so not what David had expected to hear at all. Limbo room? It almost sounds like Tiemann just said it was okay as long as it was… well, not here, for everyone to see. David shivers, and before he can stop himself, he lets out a whimper.

"Oh fuck me, he's precious," says the other guy, and squats down in from of David, strong fingers gripping his chin tightly, raising David's head until their eyes lock together. When David shivers this time around, it's not because he's in pain or scared, but because this guy looks so closely at him that it makes the hair on David's arms stand up. The other hand moves up to push back David's hair, fingers softly caressing the bruise that Colton has just given him. David winces, but the guy doesn't allow him to move his head away.

"You taking him?" asks a third voice, and David sees Andy Skib suddenly appearing behind the guy holding onto his chin. A second later, Kris appears next to Andy Skib and curls a hand around David's cellmate's arm. David's eyes return to the guy in front of him, and if he was the kind of person to swear, he would have sworn that he had never seen such intense eyes before. David doesn't swear, though that doesn't make it any less true.

"Oh fuck yeah, no question about that," the guy says and leans so close that David nearly falls in order to get away.

David sees Andy Skib nodding thoughtfully behind the guy, and Kris offers David a small smile, which David figures is supposed to be encouraging. His head still hurts too much to appreciate whatever it is he is supposed to be appreciating right now though.

"Right then. Colton, Hernandez, if you ever touch this boy again, you won't just have to answer to Cook, but to me as well. Got it?" David looks surprised up at Tiemann, and then returns his gaze to the guy who's still squatting in front of him. Wait, this is Cook? The guy that Johns had told him would be his best option? The guy that Kris had told him yesterday was a great guy? His eyes widen, surprised and nervous.

"Don't look so panicky darling, I'm not going to hurt you," says Cook, grinning widely as he reaches out to pet David's hair. It seems oddly demeaning, but David doesn't dare to say anything, just closes his eyes as he feels strong fingers run through his hair. The fingers continue to dance lightly over his face, touching the bruise on the forehead before they continue down to tease his neck. Then it stops. David opens his eyes and sees Cook now standing, looking down at him, making David squirm under the heated gaze, smirking as if he likes seeing David being all uncomfortable.

"Come on David," says Kris, moving away from Andy Skib and holds out a hand for David to take. David glares at it for a few seconds, befuddled, but then reaches out to place his own hand in Kris', and pushes away with his feet in order to get up. He glances hesitantly at Cook out of the corner of his eyes, watching as Tiemann and Cook talk quietly about something. About _him_ , David realizes when the two men look at him for a long moment before continuing their conversation.

"It'll be okay," promises Kris, and David hopes that it won't just be an empty promise; hopes that there is something to it, because he has got nothing else to lean on right now but hope.

~

Breakfast was surprisingly quiet. But after is when things start to get out of hand a bit. Having sat with his head down during the entire meal, David had managed to not see the looks that the other inmates had been sending their way, but they have barely stepped out of the cafeteria when everything goes kind of wrong.

Pale, slender fingers twist around the back of his neck, making David instinctively raise his shoulders to make it stop hurting. "Relax pet," whispers Cook, warm breath caressing David's cheek. "Just going to go back to my cell so we can show the others who you belong to."

Kris and Andy Skib walk past them and David tries to catch Kris' eyes, but the other inmate doesn't even look at him as they disappear into Kris' cell. David feels betrayed and wonders why nobody told him that something like this would happen. Or why Johns had made it sound like he had a choice in all of this, when really it's Cook who runs the show.

"Hurry the fuck up," hisses Tiemann, sounding impatient and angry, and Cook pushes David so hard that David nearly stumbles over his own feet. Cook chuckles behind him, and helps David stand properly again before pushing him along.

Then David is guided into Cook and Tiemann's cell, both guys following him into the tiny room. David has never felt claustrophobic before, but right now it feels as though the walls are about to swallow him whole.

"Why–" he tries to ask as Cook makes him sit on the bottom bed, but is interrupted by Cook cuffing him so hard on the side of his cheek that his ear starts to ring. He lifts his arm, trying to shield himself from more blows, but Cook is apparently satisfied with just one. David realizes that one is enough, because within a few seconds, his cheek starts to sting something terribly.

"Don't fucking talk unless spoken to! I told you yesterday," says Tiemann, arms crossed over his chest as he leans up against the wall a few feet from the bars. David looks at him, blushing under the gaze of the tattooed man, eyes welling slightly with tears, before returning his gaze to Cook who stands in front of him. Where Tiemann looks positively dangerous, Cook actually looks friendly. Well, kind of at least. David doesn't like the smirk or the way the eyes that wander up and down his body, but at least Cook doesn't talk that way to him. Yet, he reminds himself. If there is one thing David has learned, then it is that everyone can change in a split second. Even those you thought you could always count on can suddenly turn around and be someone else entirely. He knows from experience that something like that hurts an awful lot, all the way into your bones.

"Don't worry about Tiemann," says Cook, and reaches out to gently touch David's cheek (the one that stings a bit after the smack from before), and David winces but wills himself to sit still. Cook smiles, seemingly pleased with David's ability to sit still even when his gut tells him to get the heck out of there immediately.

"You want to be my boy, right?" asks the inmate, and David's eyes lower to the floor before closing. He'd prefer to not be anyone's boy in here, but his conversation with Kris the day before looms at the back of his mind.

 _"In here it's safer for guys like, well, us, to… find someone, and let them take care of you," Kris had said and offered David a soft and kind smile. David had looked at the other inmate confused, not really understanding what he had meant with 'guys like us'. Before he gotten a chance to ask, Kris who had obviously noticed his confusion and had continued a few seconds later, "We aren't big or strong or powerful. And in here, power is everything. If you can't be powerful yourself, then you're as good as dead. Being with someone like Andy has protected me… and it's actually not all that bad. He's a good person and he cares. And I care about him too. And you can learn to care about someone too. Maybe even someone like Cook."_

The conversation had continued, but that is this part of the conversation that practically haunts David, because deep down, he knows that Kris is right. David hasn't got what it takes to be someone powerful, doesn't have what it takes to become one of the strong ones. His little encounter with Colton and that Hernandez guy earlier is proof of that, and if they did something like that to him out in the open, then he doesn't want to know what someone could do to him in the limbo room, or whatever it was that Tiemann called it.

David lifts his head up, eyes still closed tightly as he tries to force the tears that loom behind his eyelids to go away. Cook's thumb moves across his cheek and lingers at his bottom lip, gently prying his lips apart. "I'll take care of you," Cook promises, and David wishes that he could believe the man. Nonetheless, he opens his eyes, ignoring the fact that they are still a bit wet, and then blinks one, two, three times.

"No," he whispers awkwardly against Cook's thumb, surprising himself. That was not what he meant to say at all. Cook stares at him, eyes narrowing into tiny slits.

"No?" he drawls, sounding angry.

"I—I don't want to," he finally manages to stammer out, already regretting it the moment the words leave his mouth. He had wanted to say yes, wanted to just give in so he could get whatever protection he might need, but something inside him made him turn down the offer. Stupid? Probably, he thinks, but it's done now. He considers taking back the words; considers to changing his answer to a 'yes'.

Cook leans back, his finger leaving David's lips as if burned, looking at David like he's five seconds away from hitting him. David sees the hand curling into a fist for a couple of seconds before unclenching the fist again.

"Get out," says Tiemann, uncrossing his arms slowly, stepping away from the wall.

David moves from the bed, legs buckling as he stands. He feels weird, as if the air is too light.

"Out," snarls Cook, and curls his fingers around David's upper arm, squeezing once before pushing him out of the cell. He stumbles and almost knocks his head against the bars, his breath leaving him as though he has been punched in the stomach.

He sees Kris standing not that far from the cell, eyes widening for a split second before turning blank. David doesn't know what to say to him, and Kris doesn't say anything either, just turns away, arms crossing over his chest, as David walks past him. He bows his head, walking fast to his own cell.

~

He's enters the cafeteria as one of the firsts for dinner. He glances warily at the empty steel tables, uncertain as to where he should sit. Part of him wants to go sit at the Cook's table, but he knows that it will probably not be accepted. Finally – after nearly being knocked over by some inmates who walk past him –he settles for a table near the guards, because if he remembers correctly, it had been empty the day before.

He watches as Cook, Andy Skib, Kris and Tiemann enter the room. He kind of wishes he had gotten a chance to talk with Andy Skib earlier, but his cellmate had never returned to the cell before lunch – which he had totally skipped, choosing to stay in his cell rather than go alone – and he had never seen Andy Skib after lunch either.

He silently begs for Kris to look his way, but Kris doesn't. Cook does though, however David kind of wishes that he hadn't, because Cook's cool, indifferent look just makes him feel uncomfortable.

He's halfway through his dinner when a shadow suddenly looms over the table. He looks up, paling as he sees a big guy standing there, looking none too pleased with David sitting there. The guy puts down his tray angrily, the food nearly falling off the tray in the process.

"That's my table," he sneers, face red. David cowers, scared and somewhat embarrassed as he notices that they suddenly have everyone's attention.

"Um," he offers, his fingers gripping the edges of his own tray, quickly getting up, "sorry, I didn—" He swallows, taking a deep breath, "I didn't know that this table was taken. Sorry."

The guy doesn't look like he believes David, and David swiftly steps back, eyes big and wide. "I honestly didn't know."

"Get lost kid," sneers the inmate, and takes the seat that David had just gotten up from. The guy looks over his shoulder, then at David's tray. "And that's mine too," he says haughtily, tattooed fingers swiftly sweeping David's cup of pudding from the tray.

David leaves the room, head bowed in shame, ignoring Johns as he walks past the guard. He doesn't need to see Johns' look to know what it will look like. He should have accepted Cook's proposal – should have just said yes – and then none of this would have happened.

He spends the rest of the evening in his cell, already in bed and ready for the night when Andy Skib returns seconds before the bell rings. He looks at his cellmate, almost pleadingly, hoping to get some kind of advice, but Andy Skib ignores him completely.

"I don't—" he whispers, but Andy Skib just goes about his routine, brushing his teeth and peeing before crawling into his bed. The light goes out a couple of minutes after that and David lies awake for almost three hours, just watching the darkness as he tries to collect his thoughts.

 _Stupid_ , he thinks, and clenches his fingers around the sheet. _Stupid, stupid, stupid_ , he chants in his head, and turns onto his side, facing the wall.

His eyes are red and itching from the lack of sleep when he wakes up the next morning. Andy Skib is already dressed, sitting on his bed reading a book. David tries to see which book it is, but Andy Skib's hand is partially covering the title. He sighs, and walks over to the toilet in the corner, forcing himself to get ready.

He eats breakfast alone too, though at a different table, this one a bit closer to the guards than the one from last night. He hurries through his food, almost choking on it, desperate to get out of the cafeteria and go back to his cell. Once his plate is clear and his juice is gone, he sits there for a second, taking in the other inmates around him. They are all talking, and David has never felt more alone than right now.

He sees Cook and the others walking past him, Kris walking a bit behind them. Without even thinking about it, he grabs unto Kris' wrist as the other inmate walks past him.

"Kris," he tries. Kris stares at him, then at David's hand.

"Sorry," is all Kris says, before pulling his arm back, and then Kris is walking away. David follows the southern inmate with his eyes for as long as he can.

"This is my table," says the guy from last night. David turns and looks, surprised.

"Um," he says. "But this is a different table," he dares to add, looking up from underneath his eyelashes to look at the guy.

"Are you calling me a liar?" hisses the inmate, leaning down over David, trapping him in his seat.

"No, I just, no, sorry, I didn't mean to," he hurries to say, his breath quickening.

"Sounded like it," whispers the guy, and then quickly proceeds to push David's face down to the table, pressing his cheek against the cold surface of the steel table. It hurts terribly, and he can feel tears forming in the corner of his eyes, the catcalls and whistles coming from the other inmates only making it even more humiliating.

"Hey, none of that Smith. Release him now," says a guard, and David doesn't have to see who it is to know that it's Johns. The inmate, Smith, presses his hand even harder against David's cheek before finally releasing him and stepping back as if he hadn't touched David at all.

"Do it again, and I'll have to throw you in isolation. You know the rules," says Johns.

"I hardly even touched him," laughs Smith, and walks away.

"Archuleta," says Johns, and it's not until his name is said that he realizes that he's still lying with his face pressed against the table. "Go get cleaned up," tells Johns, and David nods.

He doesn't go to his cell, but rather heads straight to Cook and Tiemann's cell. He sees the two in there, and stops just as he reaches the bars.

"Okay," he says, quietly, voice barely audible. Cook looks over his shoulder, and when he sees that it's David standing there, he gets up from the bed. David chances a quick glance at Tiemann, who looks weirdly at him. Then Tiemann nods, arms uncrossing slowly. David watches the tattoos, and unconsciously licks his lips, before returning his gaze to Cook.

"Come in," says Cook, grinning. David enters the cell, head bowed and cheeks burning with shame. He stops in front of Cook, flinching when Cook raises a hand. He doesn't strike David though, just presses his thumb against his lips like he had done the day before. He licks his lips again, his tongue touching the tip of Cook's finger.

"Oh fuck yeah," hisses Cook, and presses the thumb further into David's mouth. David stares up at Cook with wide eyes, but Cook isn't even looking at him but at Tiemann who stands there in the middle of the cell opening, looking at the two of them.

"I'm going to go talk with Skib," Tiemann informs them suddenly, and before David has a chance to think about what this means, he and Cook are alone in the cell.

"I don't—" he starts to say around the thumb, but then remembers that Cook hasn't allowed him to talk. He swallows the rest of the sentence and briefly wonders how he'll be able to do this. Cook's head tilts slightly to the side as he looks inquiringly at David, and then the thumb is removed from his mouth. Cook traces the now wet digit across his cheek, marking him with his own saliva, until he reaches David's short dark hair.

"You don't what?" asks Cook, grinning smugly.

"I've never—I don't know—I _can't_ ," he finally ends up saying, ashamed and near panicking.

"But you're going to," states Cook as he twists his fingers into David's dark strands of hair, leaving no room for arguing. Cook tugs at the ends a bit, making David's scalp prickle and ache, and David knows that he doesn't stand a chance. Cook is his only chance for survival in here, even though it pains him to admit it. .

~

David can barely force anything down at lunch, his throat achy and his stomach churning at the sight of food. The fact that Cook has placed a possessive hand at the back of his neck doesn't help either. He can hear the other inmates talking around them, and there are even a few who come over to the table to talk to Cook and Tiemann. David ignores them though, and barely hears what they say as he continues to stare dizzily at the food, his entire face burning with humiliation.

"Why's Carrico giving you the red eye?" asks Tiemann, but David has no idea who Carrico is and he can't find himself to even care right now.

"He saw your boy being friendly with a hack yesterday morning," answers Andy Skib, eyes on David.

Cook pinches David's neck, and this makes him look up. "Who?" asks Cook, the question clearly for Andy Skib even though he's looking at David who finds himself cowering under the hard stare.

"Johns."

"You friends with Johns?" This time the question is for David, though the tone is indifferent, so he can't tell if it's a good or a bad thing. He considers it, not entirely sure if he can call Johns a friend. True, the guard had been friendly and offered David advice when he could have just let him walk into this blindly, but still, friends? Not really, no.

"He took me aside when I arrived," David tries to explain. "He told me…" he looks at Cook for a few seconds before looking back down at his food. Cook squeezes his neck again, this time a bit gentler than before. "He said to accept your offer. Said you'd come for me." The words are no louder than a whisper, and he wonders if Cook even heard him at all. Except then Cook ruffles his hair, and for the first time since they sat down at the table, the older man lets go of David completely.

"Guess he deserves a _big_ birthday gift this year then," laughs Cook, and David looks up to see Andy Skib and Kris smiling, and even Tiemann's lips twitches a bit, though it never turns into a real smile. David exhales soundly, bewildered and truth be told, a bit disgruntled.

"Johns is a friend," explains Cook, winking amusedly. David can't see what's so amusing, because oh gosh, he had really thought that he would be beaten or something worse for exchanging smiles with a guard. Heck, even Andy Skib had elbowed him, hard, on the shoulder, which kind of still hurts a little. He hasn't looked, but he's sure that he's gotten a bruise.

"Johns _is_ a friend," says Tiemann, breaking the laughter. "Though that doesn't mean a punk like you should be smiling to the hacks or whatever it was you did. People will think you are like Noriega over there," he says, pointing at a skinny dark-haired boy sitting close to the guards. David looks at the boy, wondering what is so bad about Noriega.

"He likes guards. Gives him the kind of protection he needs in here, if you know what I mean," Cook tells him, and David just continues to stare blankly at the boy. "He's Yeager's fuckboy," Cook adds, and David winces at the crude remark, finally looking away from Noriega. "He spreads his legs for Yeager who in return gives him certain privileges."

David bows his head, feeling sorry for Noriega, but mostly for himself if he has to be completely honest. When they get up from the table, his food is barely touched. They move across the cafeteria, and the closer they get to the guards standing up against the walls, the faster David wants to go. Johns had been nice to him, but apparently there had been more to it.

"Thanks man, I owe you," Cook grins as they walk past Johns, the other inmate's hand back on his shoulder to keep him close. Johns laughs in return, and David feels like a fool.

"Thought he was your type," says Johns and shrugs casually before winking at Cook. David is positive that if they stand here any longer, he is going to do something stupid, like, well, get angry or throw up. Thankfully they move before something like that happens, walking into the hall that is filled with inmates. They don't stop to talk though, but rather continue to walk to one of the cells. It's his own and Andy Skib's cell, he realizes as he is being pushed into it. He sees Andy Skib's pictures hanging on the wall.

Five people standing in a cell this small is difficult, and David almost offers to leave just so he can find somewhere he can be alone and maybe, possibly scream until his lungs hurt (or cry, seeing as his throat is still sore from earlier). But then he blushes, because thinking of his sore throat makes him think of what he had been doing with Cook before lunch.

"Up," says Cook, and before David has a chance to react, strong hands are gripping his waist and lifting him up as if he weighs nothing. He is placed on Andy Skib's bunk, and he shifts uncomfortably on the white sheet. Kris joins him on the bunk, and Tiemann moves a bit to the side until he is standing in the doorway of the cell, fingers curled around the steel bars. David looks curiously at Tiemann for a few silent moments before Cook starts to talk.

"Have you heard from Andrew?"

"Nothing yet," says Andy Skib.

David looks sideways at Kris, trying to make sense of what's happening, but Kris doesn't even look to be paying attention. Andy Skib reaches out and runs his hands up and down Kris' thighs, and David shifts again, quickly looking at the ceiling. He hears Kris sigh and sees Andy Skib out of the corner of his eye lean closer to Kris, whispering something in the other inmate's ear that makes Kris chuckle. Then the chuckle is followed by another chuckle, which is then replaced with a low moan that has an almost animalistic edge to it.

He wishes he could just disappear, and he is literally five seconds from jumping off the bunk when Cook touches his knee almost affectionately, startling him out of his thoughts. _Oh my heck_ , is all David can think, as Cook moves to stand between his legs, shoulders pushing his legs further apart.

"Stop being so fucking skittish," says Cook sternly, "or I'll _give_ you a reason to be jumpy all the goddamn time."

He nods absently, eyes straying to Cook's face for a split second before looking at a spot on the wall behind the man.

"Sorry," he tries, but is cut off by Cook who grabs his neck and pulls him down until their lips crash together. David has never really kissed anyone before, so he just sits there with eyes wide open as he gazes into Cook's eyes. He can feel Cook's tongue running over his lips, and the sensation surprises him so much that he gasps, his mouth opening slightly. Cook wastes no time before pushing his tongue in and the grip on his neck tightens painfully. He can feel the velvety tongue against his own, and it feels odd, but not entirely unpleasant, he thinks. He tentatively tries to make his own tongue move and a peculiar sense of satisfaction swells in his stomach when Cook groans.

They are interrupted by a beeping sound, and when they pull apart, David (accidentally) leans forward to follow Cook's lips, a desperate whine leaving him before he notices it. Thankfully Cook still stands there, ready to push him back before he makes an ass of himself by falling off the bed. Though the smug smile that he gets makes him blush so hard that even his ears burn.

"Yard time," says Kris, sounding awfully cheerful, too cheerful in David's opinion. David tries to smile, but for some reason he can't look away from Cook who just smirks at him. He hears Kris get down from the bed, and he hears Andy Skib telling Cook they will wait outside for them, but all he sees is the way Cook's head tilts to the side as he gazes intently at David.

"Um, cool," says David, but Kris and Andy Skib are already long gone. Tiemann too, apparently, though David has no idea when the tattooed man had left.

"Fucking precious," whispers Cook, more to himself than to David, or at least that's what it sounds like. David blushes and looks at Cook's red lips, catching his own lower lip between his teeth as he worries it, uncertain how to react to all of this. Then Cook lifts his hands, gently placing them on each side of David's face as he brings them closer together again.

"Oh," says David meekly when he can practically feel the heat from Cook's lips. They kiss again, long and slow and _oh my gosh_ , David is sure that if he doesn't get air soon he might just faint, which would be incredible embarrassing. But then they break apart, Cook panting harshly and David gasping for air.

"Yard time," says Cook, and helps David down from the bed.

~

A couple of days later, David is up before Andy Skib is. It is weird being the first one up, especially because he needs to be extra quiet so he doesn't accidentally wake up his cellmate, but he has to admit that he prefers this. It's nice not needing to worry about someone watching. Back at home he was used to being the first one up too, so it's kind of comforting in its own way, like his old routine.

He smells his t-shirt, nose wrinkling at the smell of sweat that clings to the fabric and wonders if he can get away with just a change of clothes. He knows that he _needs_ a shower, but he really, really wishes to postpone going into the shower room anytime soon. It's big and open and there are no curtains, which means no privacy and oh heck, just the thought of everyone being able to see him naked makes his cheeks burn.

"You need a shower?" asks Andy Skib, voice sounding tired. David jumps and twirls around where he stands, quickly dropping his t-shirt so that it covers his chest again. Andy Skib just yawns.

He nods, slowly, embarrassed for being caught. Normally David is all for personal hygiene, but in here it's thwarting and uncomfortable the way he has to shower and stuff in front of other people, and he doubts he will ever get used to it.

"I just, um," he says awkwardly, and shyly follows with, "I'm not good with being… you know?"

"Being naked?"

"Yes," he says, nodding, glad that Andy Skib seems to understand what he means.

"We'll take you," he says and gets down from the bed. David smiles, lips pressed tightly together, nostrils flaring as he breathes through them. Somehow, the thought of Cook seeing him naked unnerves him a bit.

"Okay," he says, timidly, and goes over to the small sink, trying his best not to turn his head in any direction while his cellmate pees. He wonders how someone can just be so indifferent to going in front of other people.

They finish getting ready in silence, something that David both appreciates and dislikes at the same time. He likes not needing to make awkward conversation with people he doesn't really know, but the silence always gets to him. He starts humming softly, though it is not until he realizes that the other inmate is staring at him that he notices that he's humming at all.

"Sorry," he offers, lifting his shoulders in a light shrug. "Humming calms me," he explains, laughing nervously. Andy Skib just smiles, a real smile, and David feels kind of proud for being able to make the other man smile like that.

"I can see why Cook is already smitten with you," he says, smirking.

David stops making his bed and stands up straight, curious. "H—he is?" It surprises him, mostly because he has only known Cook for less than a week and it seems too soon for a proclamation like that.

"Oh yeah," is all Andy Skib says in response.

The beeping noise startles him, and a few moments later he can hear the other inmates around him starting to wake up. He sits on his neatly made bed, legs dangling over the edge. Andy Skib has crawled back up to lie on his bunk, and David tries to listen to his cellmate's breathing. It stays the same, which means that the other man is still awake.

"Why me?" he blurts out before he can help himself.

"What do you mean?"

"Why does he want me?" he asks, nervously, though curious at the same time. He wants to know this; he needs to know what made Cook choose him. There had been other new inmates with him that day he had arrived, some similar in type of himself now that he thinks about it, but Cook had chosen him just like Johns had predicted.

"How should I know?" says Andy Skib, sounding almost defensive. David sighs, wondering what he has done wrong.

A second beeping sound is heard, and then the bars slide away. "Stand in line for inspection," says the voice over the loudspeaker. David moves out of the cell and stands on the black line. His cellmate joins him a couple of seconds later. David glares at the floor.

"I see you've got yourself a new cellmate," says the guard, and David looks up to see a guard he has never noticed before. He has dark hair and a stripe of white in the front. It looks weird, and for some reason David can't stop thinking about skunks.

"I have," says Andy Skib in an indifferent tone, almost like he hadn't even realized that David is standing right there next to him.

"Mm," says the guard and looks at David. David unconsciously takes a step closer to Andy Skib, not liking the way the guard looks at him. He can feel Andy Skib's eyes on him, but the other inmate doesn't say anything and a second or two later, the guard moves on to the next on the black line.

A hand clamps down on his shoulder, and he nearly jumps out of his skin when it happens. He really should learn to be more observant, otherwise he is afraid he will die of a heart attack before his nineteenth birthday, which he just now remembers that he will be celebrating in here.

"Go wait in the cell," says Andy Skib, and David chances a look at the taller man before nodding. He turns around and makes his way back into the dark cell, welcoming the feel of security that encloses around him. He dares to walk over to the pictures on the wall and look at them. There are three in total, and he has to take a step closer to get a better look at the faces. They are all there; Andy Skib, Tiemann and Cook. They are standing together in all the pictures, arms around each other's shoulders and bottles of beer in their free hands. They look happy; friendly. He freezes and takes a step back. That means they knew each other on the outside too. Not uncommon he figures, but still, what are the odds that they all end up in the same prison and same cellblock?

"Done snooping around?" asks Tiemann, and David gulps soundly before he turns around, eyes going wide with fear. He _really_ needs to pay more attention to his surroundings. He holds up his hands and takes another step back until his back hits the bed.

"Sorry, I didn—I just wanted—sorry," he says quickly. He pales slightly as Tiemann takes a step further into the cell. "I was curious," he whispers, words barely audible.

"Right," says Tiemann, voice sounding less harsh. "You're entitled to look at the pictures. It's your wall too, you know."

David glances back at the pictures and then his eyes sweep over the gray walls around the pictures. No, it still feels like Andy Skib's wall to him.

"We've known each other since we were in high school," says Tiemann. The tattooed man sounds oddly pensive, almost as if he's remembering his past as he speaks. "We've stuck together ever since."

He nods, surprised at the way Tiemann has opened up to him a bit. Just a bit though. The man still scares him to death. Well, sort of anyway.

They are interrupted by Andy Skib and Cook entering the cell, Cook looking positively murderous, eyes burning and nostrils flaring and his face is a bit red too. But then he sees David standing there, and his face softens. David watches as Cook pushes past Tiemann and continues walking until he is standing right in front of him, their shoes almost touching. David looks up, and then they just stand there for a few seconds, looking into each other's eyes. It's unsettling, but he cannot for the life of him look away. Cook leans down and kisses him gently, their lips pressing together. David is very much aware of the fact that Tiemann and Andy Skib are looking, so he quickly closes his eyes and tries to keep his blush under control. Cook buries his hands in David's hair, deepening the kiss until David has no idea where one starts and the other ends and _oh my heck_ , he thinks, and just goes with it. Cook has like, really soft lips.

Someone clears their throat, and David immediately blushes so hard that he can feel the coloring creep up his neck. Cook just looks over his shoulder and _sneers_ and then turns around to kiss David on the neck, using his teeth to scrape against David's skin. It hurts a bit, but when Cook adds his tongue, coating the bruise in saliva, David finds himself go pliant in Cook's arms, his head lolling to the side to give the man better access. It feels extremely weird, but not entirely unpleasant.

"Mm," says Cook as he steps back. David's hand lifts, his fingers slowly dancing upon the bruise, wincing as it hurts. "Now they can _all_ see who you belong to," says Cook possessively. David is pretty sure he has missed something, because he thought that the whole… well, thing in Cook's cell was precisely about that, to show everyone that David is protected by Cook.

"Kris is outside. Go get breakfast. We will be there soon."

David doesn't get a chance to say anything before he is shoved out of the cell. Kris is standing not that far away, just like Cook said he was, and David makes his way over to him. His fingers itch to cover the mark on his neck, but he has just barely raised his arm when Kris quickly grabs it, fingers wrapping around David's shirt, and pulls his arm down again.

"Sorry David, but I'm pretty sure that Cook put it there for people to see, not for you to hide it," says Kris, smiling apologetic as if it is his fault. David forces himself to smile back, fighting the urge to bow his head and blush, because oh gosh, this is so embarrassing. So in an attempt to ignore the itch he starts to toy with the sleeves of his shirt instead. It is not nearly as satisfying, but it keeps his hands busy and the mark visible.

"Jug-up," states Kris, and David nods. He still hasn't figured out what it means exactly, but he has heard other inmates use it, so he just goes with it. They head towards the cafeteria, walking past the armed guards. David sees Johns smirk at the sight of the mark on his neck, and walks a bit faster. Kris looks weirdly at him, but matches his pace anyway. David appreciates that.

They make their way through the line, and it's not until they are halfway through that David notices that something is a bit off. The inmates move out of their way. He feels a bit conscious and wonders if he really smells _that_ bad. Cook hadn't said anything earlier, and Kris hasn't mentioned it either.

"Pretty," says a soft voice, and David twirls around with his tray in hand to see Noriega standing right behind him. He frowns, uncertain as to how to take the compliment, or if it even can be considered a compliment at all. There is something in Noriega's tone and body language that makes it feel a bit mocking.

"Huh?" is David's ever so eloquent answer. Noriega smirks and moves closer, a delicate hand reaching out to touch David's neck. He moves back automatically and Noriega just smiles as the arms falls down again along his side.

"Your mark," says Noriega. "It's pretty."

David's fingers touch the mark, tray balancing on one hand. "Oh," he utters awkwardly. "Thanks?"

"So you're Cook's then?"

David thought so much was obvious, but he still nods. With Kris momentarily forgotten, David just looks at the thin boy in front of him. He's pretty, that's for sure, but there is something about his attitude that frightens David a bit. He's too forward, too… well, David can't think of another word that fits.

An arm snakes around his shoulder, and he barely flinches as he recognizes Cook's scent. "Of course he's mine," says Cook and presses himself closer to David, the free hand reaching out to take David's tray for him. "I'd think that's pretty evident, actually." David can't see where Cook is looking, but he can see Noriega looking at the guards, a small smile gracing his lips as he nods twice.

"Good. Keep it that way," he says, and then Noriega is off, disappearing as quickly as he had arrived. David feels, for like the hundredth time, that he just missed something vital.

"Come on precious," whispers Cook into his ear and guides David to the same table as yesterday.

Kris is sitting at the table when they arrive, and it doesn't take long after they have sat down before Tiemann and Andy Skib arrive too, Andy Skib carrying a tray of food for Cook as well. He sees the three men give each other knowing looks, and he wishes he knew what was going on. Kris doesn't seem weirded out by it though, or maybe Kris is just more perceptive than David is?

"Eat pet," demands Cook, pushing David's tray of food in front of him.

David reaches out, grabs a piece of toast and smears jam on it. It doesn't taste like much, but it sates the hunger for now.

"Finished?" Cook asks, and stands up before David has a chance to answer.

"Andy told me you wanted a shower. And to be honest, I kind of want to see you all naked and _wet_ ," the last is said with a smirk, quickly followed by a wink. David nearly chokes on his juice, cheeks turning red at the thought of being naked in front of the other inmate.

"Um," is all he seems able to say, and Cook's smirk broadens. Kris smiles tentatively and both Andy Skib and Tiemann just shake their heads.

~

When Andy Skib had said that they would all go, David had actually assumed that really did mean all of them, but when he gets there with Kris, both carrying change of clothes over their arms, he sees that it's only Tiemann who's waiting for them. He is relieved for all but two seconds, when he realizes that Tiemann will still see him naked. Something that makes him more uncomfortable than if it had been Cook.

"Where's, um, Cook?" he asks hesitantly and looks at the guard at the opening. It's that Luke guy from his first day. David is not sure if he should be happy about that or even more nervous, seeing as Luke did end up leaving him alone with Johns. Not that anything bad had happened, but still.

"Cook needed to make a phone call. He'll try to get here soon," is all Tiemann says, and points at the double doors. Kris goes through and David follows slowly behind him.

"Menard, keep everyone out, got it?" Tiemann says. David sees the guard nod, and quickly swallows, trying to keep calm.

"It's for your sake," says Kris when the door closes behind the three of them. The bathroom is empty; something David hadn't even considered possible seeing as how many inmates there are. He's glad nonetheless, because it means that fewer people will get to see him naked.

He sees Kris undress, and starts to take off his clothes, folding it neatly before placing it on the bench. Tiemann raises an eyebrow at him, but David tries his best to ignore the tattooed man. He wants to get this over with as fast as possible, but that doesn't mean he has to forget what his mom taught him about folding clothes. Besides, it's a habit, just like his humming is.

Choosing one of the twenty showers, he turns the knob and waits for the water to get the right temperature. The room is cold, almost like someone has left a window open somewhere, but the windows are all so high up under the ceiling and closed, that the cold air can't be coming from there. He fiddles with the knob, desperately trying to make the water hot, but it never does get as warm as he wants it to be, so in the end he has to get under the lukewarm water. It hits his hair first and then runs down his neck, past the bruise and further down to his chest. He turns around, his eyes on the slippery floor and uses his hands to make sure that he gets wet all over.

Then, as he reaches out for the soap, he accidentally looks up and stops what he's doing. Tiemann is looking at him, and not just in an annoyed way like he seems to be doing all the time, but in this really weird way that makes David pale, and shiver uncontrollably. He looks at Kris, but the other inmate is busy with adding shampoo to his hair, both eyes closed as he does, and therefore does not see Tiemann looking at David.

Tiemann stares unresponsively and then nods for David to continue, which he reluctantly does. He feels exposed and visible and suddenly craves the sense of security his cell offers him, and it's not a pleasant feeling at all. He squirts soap into his hand; too shaky to even think about what he is doing, which causes the soap to run through his fingers. He tries again, and this time he manages to keep it in his hand.

The tattooed inmate leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. David quickly soaps his body, faster than he has ever done so before, and rinses off. Then he turns around, facing the wall, as he adds the shampoo, rubbing it into his dark hair, fingers massaging his scalp. He feels like he can't breathe as he steps under the water, anxious for how this turned out. He has no idea how long he has been standing under the spray of water, but suddenly he feels someone standing behind him.

"Think I should keep you naked all the time," says a voice, _Cook_ , and David actually finds himself relaxing for a split second before tensing up again, eyes going wide with fear. He glances over his shoulder, his hands quickly going down to cover his front. Cook just laughs at this, and steps under the water, pressing his naked chest against David's back.

He gulps, and tries to move as inconspicuously as possible. Apparently nothing gets past Cook though.

"Hands on the wall," says the man, and it seems that David hesitates a bit too long, because Cook grabs a hold of his neck and squeezes. "Do it," he demands, and David places his shaky hands on the cold wall in front of him.

"Good boy." It sounds so condescending that David finds himself letting his head fall forward as he tries to keep his tears in check, and manages to do so, though just barely.

He glances to the side and sees something that makes him flush worse than ever before: Kris on his knees in front of a very naked Andy Skib. Kris looks happy though and even moans passionately around Andy Skib's penis as Andy Skib buries his hands in Kris' short hair.

"You like that?" whispers Cook, pressing his body up against David's. Something hard pokes his back, and though it is clear what it is (considering that he has done to Cook what Kris is doing to Andy Skib right now, though Kris seems to be enjoying it more than David did), David secretly wishes that he is wrong and that it is something else.

"Um," he says, his mouth suddenly feeling incredible dry, breath hitching in his throat. Cook chuckles at his response.

"I bet you do," says Cook in the same low tone of voice. David wants to argue that he doesn't, but the sounds that are coming from where Kris is on the ground is making something coil in the pit of his stomach and before he knows it, he starts to harden. He blushes, wishing he could remove his hands from the wall and cover himself again.

"Oh fuck yeah." Cook places his chin on David shoulder and peers down over him, obviously liking what he sees. "Such a good, horny boy."

David really wishes that Cook would stop using words like that because it makes him incredible uncomfortable. He doesn't dare say anything though, not sure Cook would appreciate his request.

He sees the other inmate's hand reach for the soap, and before he knows it, a slick finger is running down his lower back, and then continuing further down, between his cheeks, until it lightly brushes the tiny hole.

" _Oh_ ," he breathes and stands on his toes to get away from the finger. Cook follows him though, lifting the finger until it touches again, and then slowly but surely, the finger stops tracing the opening and gently probes. It hurts and David can't help but cry out.

"Please don't," he says, breathing shallow and fast, feeling like he might just faint any second now. "I'll do what Kris does," he pleas, hoping to bargain with Cook. "Just don't do that, it hurts."

"You want to suck my cock?" hisses Cook into his ear, panting heavily, and David finds himself nodding frantically. Right now he will agree to just about anything to avoid the intrusion of his ass.

"Pets don't get to decide though," says Cook, and David can just hear the smirk in the voice. Then the finger pushes further in. He turns his head and sees Kris licking Andy Skib's penis thoroughly, as if he was licking on a lollipop. He closes his eyes, tears burning hotly behind his closed eyelids. When he blinks, they start to fall freely, running down his cheeks until they finally land in the water that runs down the nearest drain.

"Relax precious," says Cook, voice softer than before. David really, really tries, but it hurts too much to relax. "Breathe slowly."

David tries to control his breathing, but it's no good. He is now gasping for air, desperately trying to take in more oxygen than he has the time to let out. He has never felt more used in his life, and the feeling is making him sob.

A calloused hand touches his shoulder, gently massaging the skin and slowly David starts to gain back control of his breathing, the sobbing subduing slowly until only silent tears are left. It takes a long time, and when he next opens his eyes, he can just make out through his blurred sight that Kris is standing in a similar position as himself, though it's not just a finger that Andy Skib is using. Kris even seems to sort of enjoy it.

"That's good, just like that," whispers Cook. Soft lips press against David's bruise, and he shudders. It hurts, though not as much as before. Then he feels Cook pumping his finger slowly in and out. It's still unpleasant, though the pain is now at a tolerable level. Every now and then a shot of pain shoots up his spine that makes him stand on his toes again, but Cook just kisses the back of his neck until he's back to standing normally.

The hand massaging his shoulders leaves for a few seconds, and then he feels more soap running down his back until it reaches the point where Cook is connected to him. After that, a second finger is pushed in, and David once again stands on his toes, whimpering at the pain. He adjusts to the second finger faster than the first one though.

He opens his eyes and sees Kris looking at him, Andy Skib pushing in and out of Kris' body. The southern inmate smiles dazedly at him, and David tries to smile back but fails miserably.

"Relax," says Kris and then moans really loud. If David wasn't so much in pain, he probably would have blushed.

Except then something happens that he hadn't expected. Cook touches something inside him that makes his toes curl and the pain in his stomach coil together until it no longer hurts so much anymore. Cook hits the spot again, and this time David actually surprises himself by letting out a small moan of his own.

His entire body feels on fire and the more Cook hits that same spot, the louder David seems to get. He pushes back, desperately needing for Cook to hit the place inside of him that makes this feel good, and without even thinking about it, he starts to sort of enjoy it.

Cook starts to ram the fingers in faster and faster, curling the tips so that the spot is constantly touched at all times while letting his free hand roam David's chest, teasing his nipples and dipping into his navel. And before he knows it, David comes, _hard_ , Cook's hand pumping him until he is completely drained. Some of it lands on his chest, some on the floor, but none of it stays long before the water sweeps away all traces of it.

He pants deeply, embarrassed but feeling incredible satisfied at the same time.

"Knew you could take it," says Cook, turning David around in his arms. David looks up from underneath his eyelashes, his cheeks coloring under the look that he gets. It's hot and intimate and David has never felt anything like this before. Then Cook smiles proudly, and David feels warm in his belly.

He bites shyly into his lower lip for a few seconds before releasing the plump flesh. Cook smiles at him, and leans down to kiss him. It starts with a simple kiss consisting of lips pressed together, but then Cook deepens it, and David allows him. Cook's tongue is egging David's to play along, and he does so, though there is no doubt about who's in charge of the kiss. When they break apart, they lean their foreheads together, their breaths mingling together under the cascade of water.

David feels like he should say something, because he has just had sex for the very first time and he thinks he _ought_ to say something, anything. But then Cook places his hands on David's shoulders and pushes him down. David sighs, silently regretting making this deal, but goes down. This time around, he hardly even cries as Cook uses his mouth, but his throat still feels achy when he finishes.

~

The first time David notices that things might have changed a bit is one afternoon when they are sitting on David's bed in his and Andy Skib's cell, Cook up against the wall, David between Cook's legs, leaning up against Cook's torso. Cook likes to sit like this with David; likes to let his hands roam over David's body while David just sits there, forcing David's body to react to his touches, but this particular afternoon is different.

It takes David almost an hour before he realizes that something is off; that something is different than usual. Cook hands are pushed under David's shirt, warm hands resting low on his stomach, thumbs gently caressing David's skin in such a familiar way. That in itself is not entirely unusual. Cook likes to touch him, likes to run his fingertips over David's skin. What is different though, is that they have been sitting like this for close to an hour without Cook pushing his hands into David's pants to wring out an orgasm from him.

He breathes, body stiffening uncomfortably as he becomes aware of just how _comfortable_ he is right now. Cook places a kiss on his neck and continues to run his thumbs over David's skin low on his stomach, almost as if he is trying to reassure David.

"Tell me about your family," murmurs Cook against his neck, breathe ghosting over David's ear, making him shiver.

"Um," he says, and shifts. Cook's thumbs still against his skin. David tries to move again, but Cook's big hands grabs his hips and pull him back until he is sitting flush up against Cook's body again. He tries to relax, tries to make his heart stop beating so darn fast.

Cook's thumbs start to caress his skin again, though this time the hold on David's stomach is almost harder, like Cook is afraid that David will try to run away. David smiles wryly at the wall, realizing how true that is.

"Tell me," demands Cook. Then, after a few seconds of silence, the other inmate adds, "Please." It is said in a soft, almost soothing kind of voice, and David wills his body to relax.

"Um," he says for the second time. "Well, I have four siblings," he starts to say, then pauses, not sure if this is what Cook wants to hear.

"Go on," says Cook, and David swears (except not really?) that he can feel Cook smile against the back of his neck.

"Well, Claudia is my big sister. She's nineteen, just a year older than me. And um, Daniel is fifteen. Then there's also Jazzy and Amber. Jazzy is, um, gosh, I think she's thirteen and Amber is eleven."

David smiles sadly at the mentioning of his family, feeling the tears prickle at the corner of his eyes. It feels weird talking about them, but it feels even weirder talking about them to someone who does not know them and never will. Still, Cook wants to know and David has no other choice than to share. He rubs his eyes.

"And your parents?" asks Cook, resting his chin on David's shoulder. It hurts a bit, the bone of Cook's jaw digging into David's shoulder, but he reminds himself that it is still better than doing all the other stuff that makes his throat ache and such. His cheeks color slightly.

"They um, it's just my mom now?" he answers, not really sure what to say. "I mean, my dad isn't dead. He just, um, doesn't really want to see me anymore. Thinks it's my own fault. Mom's been awesome about it though, told me she'd always be there for me."

Cook's grip on his hips tightens painfully and David winces.

"Your dad sounds like an ass," he mutters darkly.

David silently agrees, though he still finds himself denying it, saying, "He's just disappointed. Um, so. But I kind of understand him. I mean… it must be disappointing to have a son who's in prison."

"He doesn't deserve to have you as a son if he can't be there to support you when you need it the most."

David mouth opens, though no words come out. He is not entirely sure what to say to that. He kind of maybe – okay, a lot – agrees with Cook, and he cannot help but feel disappointed and incredibly sad that his dad has refused to talk to him, let alone look at him ever since he was arrested.

Cook makes a displeased sound and wraps his arms around David's middle, pulling him so far back that David can feel Cook's heartbeat against his back. Neither of them say anything, and after a couple of minutes, David is finally able to relax. He leans into the embrace, head lulling to the side slightly, exhausted, trying not to let the need to cry get the best of him. Cook leans his head forward and presses his cheek against David's.

David closes his eyes, his body almost humming in contentment when Cook's thumbs start to run over his skin again in a soothing manner. He finds himself not really caring all that much about Cook touching him. It feels so comfortable, so familiar, that David can almost pretend that they are not just a punk and a protector, but that they are maybe…

He sits up quickly, Cook's hands falling out from underneath his shirt, and he uses this opportunity to get up from the bed quickly before Cook can grab him again.

"I need to pee," he says awkwardly, though his bladder is sadly empty at the moment and he is sure that he would not be able to pee just a little bit. Cook nods, mouth in a hard line and eyes sweeping over David's body like he's sizing him up. David rubs the back of his neck uneasily and looks towards the toilet in the corner. Um.

"Go on then," says Cook, eyes dark, looking like he is daring David to take his words back. David nods absently and goes over to the toilet. Yeah, he really doesn't have to pee at all, plus, even if he did, he can't when Cook is looking at him.

"I'm going to go find Andy," says Cook, getting up from the bed and walks over to David. David turns around, watching with wide eyes as Cook looms over him. It is funny, because Cook is not that much taller than him. Maybe like, um, a head or so, but the other inmate still somehow manages to appear like he is looming over David all the time.

"Okay?" he says, confused, slightly afraid that Cook is going to maybe like punish him or something for lying about needing to pee and extracting himself from Cook's embrace. The warm, soft, protecting embrace, which had been so comfortable that David had almost been able to forget about where he was. David swallows.

Cook smiles and leans down, pressing a kiss on the corner of David's mouth. David blushes, eyes looking at the floor to the wall to Cook's face – Cook is smirking now – and then back to the floor.

He sits back down on the bed (without having peed) when Cook leaves the cell. His chest feels weird, like there is some kind of spasm inside his chest that he cannot control. He thinks of Cook, smiling softly for a few seconds before realizing what he is doing. He is not supposed to like being held by Cook, except he can't find it in his heart to deny that he had kind of liked it just a little bit before. Or at least enough that he had been able to relax, trusting Cook enough to close his eyes without worrying that something might happen to him.

"Huh," he says to the wall. The wall remains quiet, leaving David to figure things out on his own.

~

Two weeks later, David has decided that yard time might just be his favorite part of the day. He likes being outdoors, likes the fresh air and the way the (somewhat) green grass feels soft under his shoes as he walks across the big lawn. He tries his best not to focus on the gray brick walls that encloses them, or the way the towers reach high up into the sky and are filled with armed guards. It's just details, as Kris had said the first time he had been allowed outside.

"That table," says Tiemann, and David turns to look at the table in question. Colton and Hernandez are sitting there, and David stops walking. Though the bruise is long gone by now, his forehead still hurts by just thinking about the way Colton had slammed it into the cement floor on his second day.

"It's ours," explains Cook, and pushes David along. David knows that it isn't. Still, he reluctantly starts to walk again, making sure to stay close to Cook just in case. It's pathetic, he knows that, but he prefers to be in one piece and pathetic, than being scattered all over the place just so he can pretend to be strong.

When they are about five feet away from the table, Cook grips David's shoulder tightly and pushes him back. He stumbles, and nearly jumps when a different hand is placed his other shoulder.

"Hey, calm down," says Andy Skib and offers David a comforting squeeze. David looks to the side and sees that Andy Skib's other hand is placed on Kris' shoulder. He tries to relax, and from the short distance, they watch as Tiemann and Cook step dangerously close to Colton and Hernandez and then say something that make the two other inmates frown and stand up.

Colton looks angry, eyes narrowing into tiny slits as he glares hotly at Tiemann and Cook. David doesn't understand how someone as tiny as Colton dares to behave like that. Okay, maybe Colton isn't exactly tiny, but he is smaller than either of the other two men.

Hernandez doesn't say anything, just keeps darting looks at David who in return huddles closer to Andy Skib's side. He has no idea what he has done wrong, but for some reason he has gained enemies without even trying to. Not that he would ever try to get enemies, because he's usually friends with everyone. Well, he used to be on the outside, but just like imprisonment has taken him from his family, so has it obviously taken away this.

And then Colton and Hernandez are walking away.

Andy Skib guides him and Kris over to the table, but before David has a chance to sit down, Cook grabs his waist and pulls him close. He fidgets, but still allows the man to pull him close until he's standing between the inmate's legs. He is pulled even closer, so close in fact, that his knees bump against the bench that Cook is sitting on.

"We need to bring back some color to your mark again," says Cook, a hand reaching up to touch David's neck. The mark has faded some, but it's still visible, David knows _that_ much, seeing as he spent some time gazing at it in the mirror this morning. "So you've got a choice now. Out here or in my cell."

David doesn't like the options much. Out here means everyone gets to see Cook placing his mark on him; out here he will be on display. But inside, in Cook's cell, means that he will need to reciprocate, because Cook made it quite clear on his fourth day that the mark means protection, which means that David has to do something for Cook, and Cook likes being reciprocated in blowjobs, that much he has figured out. He is thankful that the shower incident hasn't happened again, however, he doesn't doubt that it will some day. So far, the only thing that has changed is the fact that David no longer really cleans himself, at least not when Cook is showering with him, which he has done nearly every time since then. Instead it is Cook who runs soapy hands over David's body and Cook's hands that massage his scalp as the shampoo is added into his short hair.

"Inside," he finally says, sounding almost defeated. Cook frowns at his tone, and David quickly offers a smile, hoping that Cook won't get angry. Not that Cook ever seems to get _really_ angry with him, but David doesn't want to take the chance. Tiemann hums something, and Andy Skib looks at David before turning to Cook.

"Did you know that David sings?"

Cook glances at him, suddenly smiling broadly. The smile even reaches the eyes, which makes Cook look older and younger at the same time. Older due to the way the skin wrinkles around his eyes, but younger because David has never seen anyone look so happy and free and… the word creeps into the back of his mind: handsome. For the first time ever, he feels something flutter in his stomach. Butterflies, he thinks, and smiles back softly.

"I didn't know that," says Cook, and caresses David's cheek with the back of his hand. The fingers feel cold against his skin, but he finds that he actually doesn't mind, and part of him even enjoys it a bit if only because he longs for true affection and right now Cook touching him is the closest thing to it.

"I'm not good though," says David, cheeks reddening as Cook's head tilts to the side curiously. "I mean, I've been singing since I was little. You know, at church, but…" He shrugs.

"Let me be the judge of that," is all Cook says and curls his hand around the back of David's neck, swiftly pulling David's head down and crushing their lips together. Their teeth clash together painfully, but Cook just licks David's lips until he opens up and allows Cook's tongue entrance. He stands there, bent forward in an awkward position that strains his back and makes his legs wobble. Cook's other hand pulls at his waist, and without even thinking about it, David moves. It is not until they are breaking apart to breathe that he realizes that he is sitting in Cook's lap. He blushes, and Cook coos with a smile on his lips, "So adorable."

Tiemann clears his throat and David climbs off of Cook's lap, quickly seating himself next to Kris who's smiling widely at him. He looks at his hands, embarrassed.

"So," says Andy Skib, and David feels like laughing. He doesn't, but a small chuckle still escapes his lips. Kris starts to chuckle too, and David leans his head on his friend's shoulder.

"I'll ask Johns to find somewhere for us to hear you."

David peeks up at the thought of being able to sing properly again. "I can play the piano too," he adds without thinking about it.

"Maybe the church?" asks Kris, but David quickly shakes his head at that. It would feel weird singing in a church again, and the mere thought of it makes his throat close.

"It's the only place where you can play too," says Andy Skib, sounding remorseful. David looks at the man and nods. He knows that, but it still hurts to even think about it. He hasn't been in a church for a long time, or so it feels, and now that he's an imprisoned criminal, it just doesn't seem right.

"I can sing without playing. Or maybe just not sing at all," he tries to say.

"The church it is then," says Cook, leaving no room for discussion. David's eyes lower to the grass as Kris places an arm around his shoulder, hugging him close to his side.

They sit there for a couple of silent minutes before Tiemann pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lights one up. David watches transfixed as the tattooed inmate blows out a small cloud of smoke that lingers in the air for a couple of seconds before fading out as it goes up.

"What did Andrew say when you called him yesterday?" asks Tiemann, and David forces himself to look away from the cigarette and instead focuses on Cook. He has heard the name plenty of times before, but none of the others have ever told him who Andrew is.

"He said that he was almost certain he had found what he was looking for, but he needs a couple of days more to check."

"Who's Andrew?" asks David before he can help himself. He shifts in his seat and looks curiously at Cook, then at Tiemann before his eyes once again rest on Cook.

"My baby brother," says Cook.

David had no idea that Cook even had family, which is crazy because everyone has family somewhere, but for some reason he has just always pictured Cook, Tiemann and Andy Skib as being family. Kris too, to some extent, seeing as the southern inmate is pretty much attached to Andy Skib whenever they are out of their cells.

"Oh," he says, smiling sadly. He misses his own siblings, Claudia, Daniel, Jazzy and Amber. None of them have been at the prison to visit him, but he understands why his mom won't let them go. His mom has only been here once since he got in and he knows how busy she is, but right now he wishes he could just hug her tightly and never let go again. He doesn't even allow himself to think about his dad.

"Come here," says Cook, opening his arms. David gets up from his seat and sits on Cook's lap, burying his face in the crook of Cook's neck, hiding himself from inquiring eyes. David doesn't care any longer that they are out in the open and that everyone can see him as long as Cook holds him like this.

"It's okay to be sad," whispers Cook for only David to hear, and he nods, fully aware that it's okay. It's just embarrassing that everyone sees it.

"Andrew better hurry up, I'm getting tired of waiting," says Tiemann suddenly, breaking the uncomfortable silence. As simple as that, the others start to talk again about Cook's brother and some kind of plan that they keep on referring to but never actually mentions by words. David closes his eyes and listens to Cook's voice, smiling as it rumbles in his ear every time Cook talks. It's comforting and nice and he feels protected.

~

It's pouring outside and David wonders how the weather can change so quickly. Just yesterday, when they had been sitting outside at the table, it had been pleasantly warm and sunny, but now – just a bit more than twenty-four hours later – the sky is turning dangerously dark and heavy drops fall freely, hitting the windows and creating an eerie sound that makes the entire prison seem all gloomy.

It's after dinner, and they are sitting in the TV room watching cartoons. It seems weird that grown men are watching something so childish, but David secretly loves it, even if it makes him feel kind of like a kid. He is sitting in the middle of Cook and Tiemann, Cook's hand squeezing his thigh every now and then whenever something funny happens on the screen. Tiemann's arm is placed on the back of the couch they are sharing, and if he leans back a bit more, his head will touch the tattooed arm. But he doesn't lean back, because that would just be weird and suddenly he is extremely conscious of the fact that he _can't_ lean back.

He glances over at Andy Skib who's sitting in the only plush and comfortable armchair there is in the room, Kris sitting in his lap. Or more like curled around Andy Skib's body, depending on how you look at it. Both of them are watching the TV, Kris grinning broadly whenever something funny happens. The corner of Andy Skib's mouth twitches and David is pretty sure that the man is trying to hold back. But then again, he has only seen his cellmate smile a couple of times before, like really smiling, and it saddens him to see that the other inmate just won't give in.

There's a loud crash on the TV and then some cartoon swearing and running around in circles. David giggles and Cook squeezes his thigh, even Tiemann lets out a huff of something akin to amusement. David leans against Cook; Cook turning to look at him in return. David's breath hitches in the back of his throat, and for a moment, brief as it is, it kind of feels like they are on a date right now. Then something happens on the screen and Kris laughs and the moment is ruined. David looks back to the TV, watching without really comprehending what he is watching, eyes on the screen as the cartoon characters seems to move so fast that it all just becomes one big blur. Cook presses his lips against David's cheek, and David blushes a bit.

They sit there until the cartoon ends, and without thinking about it, David leans back until his head touches Tiemann's arm just slightly. He freezes and awaits some kind of reaction. No one says anything and Tiemann doesn't remove his arm, so David hopes it means that it's okay.

A new cartoon begins, one David doesn't recognize, but he still watches it. A big hand touches the back of his neck, rough fingers running softly through the hair. It feels nice and David smiles. Then something funny happens on screen and Cook squeezes his thigh and David frowns, because _oh gosh_ it's not Cook who's softly petting his hair but Tiemann.

He glances up at Cook who looks down at him. Then he watches as Cook's eyes lifts until they rest on the hand buried in David's hair. But Cook doesn't get angry as David had kind of expected, instead he just smiles and leans down to kiss David on the lip, and then they are back to watching cartoons. David looks over at Kris who smiles confusedly at him, and David can understand the other inmate's feelings. He is just as confused himself.

It takes him forever to relax, and just when his body is starting to go limp from contentment, Cook stands up and looks down at him. Tiemann stops petting his hair and looks as though he hadn't even noticed what he had been doing.

Cook grins and holds out his hand to David. "Let's go take care of your mark before bedtime."

David gets up, tensely looking down at his feet, his small hand nestled perfectly in Cook's larger hand, calloused fingers teasing his skin. "Okay," he says, no longer feeling so happy.

"Hurry, yeah?" drawls Tiemann, sounding bored.

"With these pretty lips wrapped around me, I doubt it'll take me that long," grins Cook and David blushes so red that he thinks his face might just explode from embarrassment. Tiemann smirks and nods, and for some reason that just makes it even harder to keep his blushing under control.

He follows Cook back to the cells and goes in first. He sits on the lower bunk, Cook's, and waits. Cook moves around a bit, and then he does something he hasn't done before; he pulls down Tiemann's sheet and hangs it expertly so that it covers the doorway, or at least it nearly does.

"Let's take care of the mark first," says Cook and wriggles his eyebrows, and David can't help but chuckle. Just like that, the worry that coils in the pit of his stomach lifts a bit.

Cook sits next to him, one arm placed on the bed behind him, the other arm reaching over David's chest to gently cradle his cheek. It feels oddly intimate, and almost like they are somewhere else than in here. Cook tilts his head and uses his hand to press David's neck closer to his mouth.

He sighs as the wet lips are pressed against his skin, and then moans as Cook starts to nibble on top of the vein. It feels kind of amazing, and he wonders why he was so nervous before. His hand reaches out and squeezes Cook's knee, which makes the other inmate suck harder.

When they finally pull apart, Cook is panting harshly from making the mark, but David is nearly panting just as hard, though for different reasons. He shifts, trying to put one leg over the other to hide himself from Cook, but Cook looks down and smirks, "Don't."

David has gotten used to doing what Cook says, whether that means he has to put his hands on the walls or to go back to his cell and stay there until someone comes from him.

"I think we should take care of your problem first. Don't want you to get too distracted when you pay me back."

David nods, though his smile fades a bit when Cook ruins his little make-believe world: a world where they were together because they wanted to be, and not because Cook is protecting him and David owes him.

"Take your pants off," murmurs Cook, and David raises his hips and tugs at the fabric until it gives and slowly moves down his hips and over his ass. He continues to pull down until the waistline of the pants reaches his knees and then he looks embarrassingly away when his penis lifts until it rests against his abdomen.

"Grab yourself," says Cook demandingly, and David frowns. He had kind of thought Cook would have maybe done it, but apparently not. He does as he's told though, and wraps his hand around himself, fingers curling around the heated flesh. He gasps, his hips jerking forward at the sensation and closes his eyes.

"Yeah, that's it," hisses Cook in his ear, warm breath caressing his cheek. "Jerk yourself, harder, faster, _harder_."

David obeys and moves his hand quicker, fingers tightening their hold on himself as he wrings out his climax. It doesn't feel as satisfying as the one in the shower a couple of weeks ago, weirdly enough, but he definitely needed this release.

"Such a pretty boy," whispers Cook and grabs David's head to kiss him harshly, tongue pressing against David's lips until he opens his mouth and allows Cook the entrance that the other man is seeking. He surrenders himself completely to the kiss.

"Wash yourself and then come give me a hand with my problem," says Cook, grinning. David nods once and gets up, his pants falling awkwardly down around his legs. He tries to get them up with his clean hand, and he manages to get them as far as his knees before giving up. He moves slowly to the tiny sink in the cell and turns the tap, quickly washing his hand and then his stomach where he is all sticky with come. Then he pulls his pants up.

He gets back, drops to his knees and automatically helps Cook with getting his pants down. Cook's penis is longer than David's, and wider too, and his throat already burns with the thought of it being pushed too far in again like last time when he nearly choked.

He looks at it for a couple of seconds, then lifts his eyes until they are locked with Cook's stormy gray ones.

"Do it."

He glances back down and sighs. Leaning forward on his knees, he grabs the hard penis and gives it a tentative lick along the underside of it, his tongue tracing the vein until he reaches the head. Cook groans loudly and David repeats the action. Cook reaches out and buries his hands in David's hair, strong fingers twisting around the strands of hair that they manage to hold on to, and then pulls slightly. His scalp prickles, but he tries his best to ignore it. Then he takes Cook in, the head lying heavy on his tongue as he starts to suck.

He is lucky though, because Cook is just as fast as he said he would be, and before David knows it, spurts of come hit the back of his throat. He coughs, but Cook doesn't let go of his hair, so he is stuck coughing around Cook's penis that pulsates in his mouth until it goes limp.

"Fuck, you're amazing," says Cook, but David doesn't feel amazing. He just feels used.

~

Lately, David hardly gets any sleep at night, nightmares from the day his fate was sealed, as he so poetically likes to call it – well, Cook had called it that, and David had kind of liked it – haunting him in his sleep. It is slowly but gradually getting worse than it used to be. David knows this for a fact, because even Andy Skib has become aware of his sleeping problems, looking at him funnily when with red-rimmed eyes he claims that he is not the least bit tired for the twentieth time.

He tries to stay up for as long as possible, tries to wear himself out, but it is like his subconscious wants him to suffer; like there is some sadistic small thing inside his brain that enjoys tormenting him. It doesn't really help either when Cook starts to question David's slow reactions. Dang it, David kind of hates his own eyes, because they tell more than eyes should be allowed to tell.

"He doesn't sleep that much," says Andy Skib, talking over David's head as if David isn't even in the room with them. He glares into his lunch, too fatigued to be hungry though he knows by now his body should be famished from the lack of food he manages to eat. It is not like he doesn't want to eat, gosh, he is just so darn tired that it seems easier to just… well, not eat.

"Nightmares?" asks Cook, sounding like he is all too familiar with the problem. David looks up from his tray of untouched food, blinking slowly a couple of times to focus properly on Cook who is sitting in the seat across from him.

"I guess," says Andy Skib. David can see him shrugging out of the corner of his eye. "There's some screaming and tears too."

David feels the heat creeping up his neck to warm his cheeks. It sounds entirely too pathetic, and he hates the fact that he _knows_ that it is him they are taking about.

"You have to eat, David," says Kris softly, moving from his seat to sit next to David.

David smiles and picks up his fork, a piece of, well, something, on it. It kind of looks like chicken, he thinks, before lifting the fork to his mouth. Tastes like chicken too.

"I'm eating," he says, smiling tiredly. Cook gives him a funny look that makes something inside the pit of David's stomach curl and coil hotly.

The lack of sleep is not the only thing bothering him lately. For the last couple of days, maybe even possibly weeks, David has been feeling weird around Cook. He finds himself loving Cook's smile; loving the little noises he makes in the back of his throat when he comes; loves the way he looks at David like he's special or something.

He is aware that it is just mostly wishful thinking, as if he is projecting his own feelings onto Cook or something. Well, um, he isn't completely sure how it works, the projecting thing, but it is the only explanation that sounds logical?

David looks at Cook who is talking with Tiemann now. He yawns and blinks, and when he opens his eyes again, he seems to have dozed for a couple of long moments, because Kris and Andy Skib are gone when he looks around, and Cook is standing next to him, hand touching David's shoulder.

"Come on, you need to sleep."

David tries to argue, but Cook just pulls him to his feet, dragging him back to the cells. He is guided into Cook's and Tiemann's cell and Cook quickly places him on his own bed, swiftly removing his shoes and tugging him under the blanket. David's heart practically swells with adoration, and he frowns at the feeling, confused and maybe also a bit scared. This is purely a punk and protector thing they have going on, so he needs to forget his weird feelings. He knows that, but when Cook smiles and David's heart skips a beat, he knows that it will be hard.

"Want to tell me about your nightmares?" asks Cook.

David shakes his head, not really wanting to share, mostly because he still finds it all incredibly confusing himself. Well, plus he thinks he might weep like a baby if he does talk about it.

"It might help," says Cook, and David can hear the demand in the voice. Part of him wants to obey the demand, thinking that it might even be helpful to let it all out, but he just settles for shaking his head again.

"Fine," says Cook, voice soft, though there is also a hint of maybe sadness there. Or maybe it is just David who wants Cook to feel sad. He is so tired and confused and, well. He closes his eyes.

It is not the falling asleep part that he finds difficult. It's the staying asleep part. He dreams about the reason why he is in here, dreams about accidentally killing the guy who tried to rob him. Every time it happens, he feels like he is falling backward and jolts awake, shaken and even more tired than before he went to bed.

Sometimes the dreams change; sometimes, he's a predator, looking for someone to stab, and other times he ends up running for hours until he is finally tracked down and has to kill the guy to save his own life.

Every time, no matter the dream, the ending is the same (if he makes it to the end of the dream that is). His lawyer fumbling with his notes, forgetting stuff and not caring one bit about the fact that David's life is ruined because he was too much of a slob to do his job properly. If he is still asleep at this point, seeing his mother's face with tear tracks down her cheeks definitely jolts him awake, and if he has made it this far into the dream, ninety-nine percent of the time he wakes up crying.

This time is no different. He jolts awake, eyelashes wet and heavy and he finds it difficult to breathe. But something that _is_ different than usual is the body pressed against his back, a warm arm around his middle, tugging him closer.

"Hush," whispers Cook, and David turns his head slightly, confused and also a bit surprised to see that not only is Cook still here, but he is lying next to him, cuddling close in with him.

He sighs and tries to wipe away his tears, a small undignified laugh escaping his lips before he can help it. Cook pulls him even closer, whispering, "What's so funny?"

Honestly, David has no idea. Or rather, he knows why he's laughing, he is just not exactly sure how to tell Cook.

"I thought you would have left," he says, realizing that it is not funny at all. Cook seems to understand him though, and just presses a sweet kiss against his neck. Though it is quick and the lips are gone within seconds, David still feels like the feeling lingers for ages.

"Why would I leave?" asks Cook.

David opens his mouth, his chest burning with want and his head swarming with thoughts and feelings and love… Gosh. He thinks that maybe he loves Cook?

"Just sleep," says Cook quietly, warm breath dancing over the back of David's head, making the hair on David's arms rise. "I won't leave."

David, despite his desire not to go back to sleep for fear of dreaming again, closes his eyes. He tries to clear his mind, tries to think of nothing at all, but ends up thinking about Cook.

He blinks awake a couple of hours later, feeling rested and no longer as tired. His eyes no longer itch from the lack of sleep, which he counts as a success. Cook is still lying on the bed next to him, though David has moved apparently, no longer with his back to Cook's chest but rather resting his head in the crook of Cook's arm, an arm thrown around Cook's middle like it belongs there. A realization that he wants it to belong there hits him hard, and he sits up quickly – too quickly, judging by the spell of dizziness that hits him.

"Feeling better?" asks Cook, sounding concerned. David nods mutely. He glances at Cook, lowering his gaze, blushing shyly as Cook seems to look straight through him. Like he knows David's new secret.

"Dinner is in twenty. You need to eat," says Cook, hand reaching out to touch David's arm, fingers prodding against his chest.

"Um," he says, momentarily confused.

They get out of bed – or more like, Cook gets out and holds out a hand for David to grasp, hoisting him up and onto the floor in a swift move that does nothing for his dizziness, but does everything for the way his heart beats faster and pounds against his ribcage. For a few fearful seconds, he worries that his chest might just explode.

Cook leans down to kiss his lips, and David angles his head to give Cook better access to his lips. It is a sweet, gentle kiss that is over in less then three seconds – David knows because he totally just counted in his head, and he catches himself so very close to groaning when Cook pulls back again, disappointed that it wasn't longer. Thankfully, he swallows the noise before it makes it past his chest, but that only makes him cough.

"Come on," says Cook, grinning like he knows what is wrong. Except, thinks David, looking warily at Cook as the other inmate leaves the cell, he can't possibly know what is going on inside David's head.

~

The next time they have sex it is the same as the other ten or so times. Cook finishes David with his hand and David drops to his knees to suck Cook. It gets to a point where David stops counting, but he never stops desperately wishing for _more_. However, every time he tries to tell Cook what he wants, the words get stuck in the back of his throat, leaving him with the feeling of being hurt and angry as they go on like usual.

He kind of toys with the idea of telling Cook that he doesn't need the protection anymore, which is terribly ridiculous, because he needs it a lot. He has seen the looks from Smith, and though Hernandez and Colton stay away from him (thankfully), he still catches both of them sending looks his way when Cook isn't looking. He wonders if he should tell someone, but decides not to. Who would be mad enough to do something that a guy like Cook has told them not to?

He is sitting in his cell one afternoon, refusing to go outside. It's raining anyway, so he doesn't see the point in going out during yard time. It's childish, he knows, but it's his way of letting Cook know that something is up, except he doesn't know how to really talk about it. Cook should pick up on it, David thinks. Normally David is all for being outside, even when it rains, so he had kind of figured that it would be like his big tell, that Cook would know that David likes him now as more than just… He doesn't even allow himself to finish that thought. However, Cook doesn't seem to pick up on it at all, which leaves David feeling weird and awkward and also maybe a bit desperate.

Kris enters the cell, knocking lightly on the bars and smiles tentatively at David. He smiles back, glad to not be alone even though that was what he had told Andy Skib that he wanted.

"So, what's up?" asks Kris and leans against the wall, smiling that confused, crooked smile that he has noticed makes Andy Skib cuddlier. David sighs and Kris slides down the wall until he is sitting on the floor in front of him.

"Nothing," he says, suddenly embarrassed for feeling the way that he does.

"It's not _nothing_ if it bothers you."

He shrugs and offers his friend a small smile. He inhales deeply and then exhales, the air leaving his lungs slowly. "It's Cook," he whispers and hides his face in his hands.

"Hey, don't cry, okay?" says Kris and David can hear him moving. When David looks up, Kris is standing on his knees in front of him, gently touching his shoulder in a comforting way.

"I'm not crying," he says, but it is kind of a lie, because he can feel the tears pressing behind his eyes, just waiting for the right (or wrong) moment to crawl out. "I don't know what's wrong. I just… I feel so…" He can't find the right word for it, but Kris nods understandingly anyway as if he knows exactly what David is talking about.

"You want more?" he asks, and huh, maybe Kris really does understand.

"How did—"

"I know?" finishes Kris.

David nods and leans forward until his elbows rest on his knees, his face buried in his hands. He feels wrong for wanting more; feels weird for not fighting it and he feels broken for craving something else. He has been in here for almost two months now, and he has had Cook to protect him for just as long.

"Been there, done that," says Kris and laughs softly. David finds himself smiling.

"Cook is a decent guy. Yes, he uses you because that's your arrangement. But I think he wants more too. In fact, I'd bet all my money on that, only he won't do anything about it."

David leans back against the wall, his legs dangling over the edge. Kris gets up from the floor and mirrors his pose, leaning back as well.

"Why?" asks David and turns his head until he can see Kris.

"Because he thinks you don't want to," says Kris quickly, quietly, almost as if he has been giving this some thought.

"Oh," he utters, and closes his eyes. He hears footsteps outside of the cell, but they seem to be going away, so he just ignores them.

They sit there in silence for a good couple of minutes, and only their breathing can be heard in the tiny cell. He wonders how he can fix things or if they even can be fixed. What if Kris is wrong and Cook doesn't want him like that? He knows he will be so embarrassed if that's the case, and if Cook ends up ending their agreement, then he's back to square one. He feels like someone just stabbed him in the chest with only bad options to go from.

"But what if you're wrong?" he finally asks, not liking this option at all, because if Kris _is_ wrong, then he will not only lose Cook, but Tiemann, Andy Skib and Kris as well, and he doesn't think he would be able to survive in here without them. He has grown fond of them all, and he considers Kris a good friend and he knows that not only would his heart break in half, but it would shatter into a million pieces if he lost them now.

Kris sighs and sits up and David follows him. "We would still be friends," says Kris, but David can hear that not even Kris believes that.

"I can't say anything," he realizes.

"It's a risk, I know, but I think you should go for it."

His catches his lower lip between his teeth, biting softly into it, pondering what to do.

"What are you doing?" interrupts a voice and David jumps awkwardly. He twirls his head until he can see who's standing there. It's Cook – Andy Skib and Tiemann standing behind him.

David gets up automatically, rubbing his hands nervously together as he stares at the floor. "Nothing," he says quickly and winces at how horrible he is at lying. He sort of blames his mom for that, because she taught him never to lie, which is why he is so bad at it. It just doesn't come easily to him.

Cook moves forward, reaches out and grabs David's chin, forcing his head up until he is looking into the other man's eyes. "You think I'm stupid?" asks Cook, voice harsh, and David cringes at the tone.

"No, of course not," he says quietly. It hurts where Cook is holding him, and he instinctively tries to pull away. He then freezes when he realizes what he just tried to do. _Oh gosh_ , he thinks, but Cook doesn't hit him or even say anything, just releases his chin and steps back looking like David has betrayed him somehow.

"Cook," he says worriedly and reaches out a hand, but Cook just takes another step back.

David looks pleadingly at Kris, silently begging his friend to help him or to at least say something. Kris doesn't say anything, just gets off the bed and steps around David and walks out of the cell and into Andy Skib's embrace.

David stands there, now alone inside of the cell, the others standing outside looking at him.

"You _are_ stupid," says Tiemann finally, breaking the awkward silence.

Cook turns around fast and glares at Tiemann. David doesn't think he has ever seen Cook look so angry at his friend before. Tiemann looks knowingly at David; looking as though he can see all the way into his soul. He shifts uncomfortably, glancing away from Tiemann, focusing instead on Cook.

"What did you say?" hisses Cook, and David swallows. He takes a step back even though he's not at the other end of Cook's temper right now.

"You're stupid," Tiemann says again. "The boy's clearly in love with you. He's just too much of a coward to tell you so."

David looks up quickly and says, "Hey!" (because who said anything about love? He cannot possibly love... well, oh, dang it) at the same time that Cook says, "What?"

"He likes your stupid ass for some reason and you're hurting him." It's said in such a matter-of-fact kind of tone that David isn't even sure he heard right. Except then Tiemann nods at Cook and wow, David can barely breathe right now; everything seems to be going in slow motion.

Cook finally turns around and looks at him, face softening right in front of David's eyes.

"Is that true?" he asks, and David nods stupidly, forgetting to correct them (because _love_?), his mouth hanging slightly open.

Cook enters the cell, suddenly seeming nervous which David has never seen the other man behave like before. It unnerves him, and he reaches out to touch Cook's arm at the same time that Cook reaches out to touch David's cheek. He smiles shyly and tilts his head until his cheek rests against Cook's big warm hand.

"Um," he says, embarrassed, "it's—I really..." He fights to find the right words, stuttering over incomplete sentences. "I am," he finally says, "in… Um, I like you, like a whole lot," he clarifies and lowers his eyes.

"Good," murmurs Cook and smiles, softer than David has ever seen him smile before. It makes the other man look serene and handsome and David finds that he really likes that look. "I like you too. Have liked you since I first saw you," continues Cook, looking so intently at David that he nearly forgets how to breathe.

When they break apart, they see that the others have left them. Cook pulls at David's hand, and they both sit down on David's bunk. Without thinking about it, they let themselves be guided by their emotions, and they lie down together and just cuddle. Cook holds David close to his chest, every once in a while placing a soft kiss on his forehead, to the same spot that Colton had bashed into the floor on his second day in prison.

David smiles and places his hand on Cook's waist. He feels great.

~

Time seems to go by so very differently in here. One hour doing nothing can feel just as long as one week at times. He is sitting on his bed, staring at Andy Skib's pictures of Cook, Tiemann and, of course, Andy Skib. He tilts his head to one side, then to the other side, trying to get them from all angles possible. They seem just as happy no matter how he looks at them, and he can't help but think about what landed them in here, all three of them at the same time.

"I love those pictures," says Kris, entering the cell. David turns to look at the other inmate, and sits up a bit straighter when he sees that Kris is holding something in his hand.

"What's that?" he asks, making his neck longer as if that will help him gain knowledge of the content.

Kris opens his palm, and David looks inquisitively at the small roll of scotch tape. Kris beams at him, and David looks puzzled at Kris, not understanding why Kris is acting as though it's a great treasure. "I thought you could put up your own pictures," explains Kris.

David swallows, his breath hitching in his throat. _Oh_. He definitely hadn't expected that.

"You don't have to," adds Kris when David remains silent.

"Oh, no, I…" he smiles, "I really appreciate it."

He glances back at the wall, Andy Skib's wall, and wonders what to do. It still doesn't feel like his wall after all, so he can't see how he can possibly put up pictures of his own.

"Andy got it from Johns," says Kris, sounding like he knows exactly what David is thinking about. "It's really okay if you want to put something up. Andy wouldn't have gotten it if he didn't want you to make use of it," tries Kris and holds out his hand, palm open and the roll of scotch tape seems to be silently beckoning David to take it.

David's smile turns wider and he gets up from the bed quickly, grabbing the scotch tape. He twirls it between his fingers, turning it over and looking at it for a few seconds. Then he glances at the small buddle of pictures that lie on one of the two shelves in the cell. He picks them up, studies them one by one for a few moments before choosing one of his siblings. He was the one who took the picture, and he thinks it seems oddly fitting that he chooses a picture where he isn't on himself.

Then he pulls off some of the tape, sticks it to the photo and hangs it on the wall a bit away from Andy Skib's pictures. He takes a step back and looks fondly at it.

"Your siblings," says Kris and David nods proudly.

"You don't want the rest of your pictures up?" Kris frowns at him, but David just shakes his head. The rest of the pictures his mom gave him on her first visit are all pictures where he is on them himself, and he is not sure he can look at those anytime soon. It will just remind him that he is in here while they are out there and it hurts.

"Well, if you are sure." Kris looks sadly at him, but David just smiles.

"I am, thanks Kris."

"No problem," Kris looks funnily at David and then smiles. "Well, I guess we should get going then. Cook is waiting for you, he told me to come get you."

Now it's David's turn to look intriguingly at his friend. Kris just shrugs and smiles that smile that tells David that there is something going on, and then turns around and leaves. David follows him, still clutching the roll of scotch tape in his hand. They walk down the hall, past the cafeteria.

They turn a corner and David sees Noriega and the guard with the weird stripe in the hair that had looked weirdly at David standing not that far away. So _that's_ Yeager, David thinks and smiles to himself, suddenly understanding Noriega's reason for behaving the way he did. The two look curiously at them, but Yeager doesn't try to stop them, so David assumes it is okay that they are heading this way. Kris doesn't even acknowledge the two, but David still smiles to Noriega. The dark-haired boy looks weirdly at him as if he's trying to decipher the reason behind David's smile. In the end, Noriega returns the smile somewhat.

They turn another corner, and David starts to get a bit worried. They are now definitely out of their cellblock, and no one has even tried to stop them. He looks over his shoulder, but there are no guards and no other inmates anywhere near them. Then, around the third corner, he sees Tiemann, Cook and Andy Skib standing with a guard, Johns, all four of them laughing and joking. They look like they have known each other for years, and then David realizes that he doesn't really know why Cook and the others are in prison or how long they have been here, or even how long they have left. He has heard rumors, yes, but he has also heard rumors about why he's here himself and there's definitely no truth to those, so he doubts he can rely on the ones about Cook. Besides, his mom always told him not to listen to gossip and he kind of loves Cook so, yeah.

He falters in his step, but quickly picks up his pace again to match Kris'.

"Hey," says Kris as they near them.

David smiles and walks forward, handing Andy Skib the scotch tape. The other man smiles and hands it to Johns who pockets it.

"Thanks," says David and looks first at Andy Skib and then at Johns.

"Glad to be of service," laughs Johns and bows slightly, surprising David. Cook laughs and punches Johns on the shoulder, and David's eyes widen as he takes in their behaviour. Then Cook reaches over and grabs David by the collar of his shirt and pulls him close. He looks shyly around, noticing the smirk from Johns and the smirk from Tiemann and the almost identical smiles from Kris and Andy Skib.

"Hey," says Cook, acting as if they hadn't just seen each other an hour ago at breakfast. He leans down and nuzzles David's neck, nose bumping against his jaw and then the undying bruise that Cook keeps on renewing whenever it seems to fade a bit.

"So, are you done molesting the boy, so we can go?" asks Johns. David assumes that it's only because Johns is a guard that he gets away with saying that, but Cook just laughs and throws his arm protectively around David's shoulder.

"Fine, fine, let's go," he grumbles.

David looks questioningly at Kris who just smiles.

They start to walk down a corridor, and then wait for Johns to open a door. Through that door is a small room that connects to a lager door—two doors actually, double doors. David immediately realizes what the room is: the church. They brought him to a church just so that they can hear him sing.

He stops walking, freezing completely as the others continue.

"David," says Cook, but David doesn't pay attention. He can't believe that he is about to enter a church again. He doesn't want to go in there; doesn't feel worthy.

"Now," says Cook, snapping his fingers in front of David's eyes, suddenly waking him from his trance-like state. He blinks twice and then nods slowly. He needs to go in; he needs to get over this. He takes a step forward, then another, and before he knows it, he is standing in the middle of the small prison church.

Kris looks delightedly at him, eyes practically shinning. He gulps and moves closer to the others. His fingers itch to dance upon the carvings on the benches; to touch the alter and everything else within reach. He doesn't though.

"You can use this one," says Johns, and points at an upright piano standing to the left side of the room. He walks over, fingers reaching out to touch the keys, childishly pushing one key down and jumps back when an actual sound emerges from it. Then he sits down, stretches his fingers and places them where they need to be.

"Go on," says Kris, standing not that far away from him. David looks pointedly at the keys, breathes deeply and then presses down.

He sings 'Imagine' by John Lennon. It's his favorite song to play and he loves the words. His eyes close and the song takes over his body. It is not until he finishes that he comprehends that he just sang in a church again, without being thrown out by some unforeseen force. It feels good.

He turns around and smiles. The others stare at him, one looking more speechless than the other. He grins, eyes lowering to the floor for a few seconds before looking up through his eyelashes, immediately seeking out Cook in the small crowd.

Cook looks amazed, like he can't believe it. David chuckles and gets up from the chair.

"Wow," says Johns, eloquently.

Cook opens his arms and David walks right into the embrace, grinning broadly. "You're amazing," whispers Cook.

"You should sing another one," says Kris, but David just shakes his head. One was enough for him for now. But he is certain that it will not be the last.

Andy Skib pushes Kris, and David sits down. Turns out that Kris can sing too, his voice sounding amazing. They all laugh and smile and even Cook sings a song, looking directly at David as he belts out the notes, voice sounding raw and rock and fantastic. It's not suited for church though, and David can't decide if he should scold Cook or blush at the crude words that are basically the entire song. But he has to admit, Cook's voice is mind-blowing. When he tells Cook just that, Cook laughs and says, "I'd rather be blowing something else."

~

They are sitting outside, just him and Cook. It's starting to get cold outside, seeing as it's already the middle of November, so they have to sit huddled closed together just to keep warm. It's the first time it's been just the two of them out here in the yard, and as much as David loves spending time with the others, he loves being alone with Cook even more.

Everything has been different since David admitted that he wanted more than just a 'protect and reciprocate' kind of relationship. Cook still marks him, which David has grown kind of fond of, and David still goes down on Cook. But Cook now reciprocates _that_ , which David has to admit is feeling pretty amazing, but they still haven't taken that last step and David is not completely sure that he's ready for it – at least not until he knows why Cook is in here.

"Cook?" he asks, leaning further into Cook's embrace, loving the way Cook manages to hold him close to his chest even when they are sitting next to each other.

"Yes babe," says Cook, and David can't help but blush at the affectionate nickname that Cook has taken to calling him.

"I was wondering," he starts to say, then stops, because how can you ask your boyfriend why he's in prison? Still, he has to try though, because he wants to know. Also, his mom is coming to visit him sometime next month and part of him is dying to tell her about Cook. Not that he is ready to tell her that he has an older boyfriend who protects him from all the bad guys in here and that they are having sex regularly at places where people can walk in on them, but he still wants her to know that there is someone who's nice and who looks out for him. The rest are just details, as Kris would say.

"Wondering about what?" asks Cook, detaching himself from David to better look at him.

He shivers as a cold breeze curls around his body and wishes that Cook hadn't let go of him. "Why you're in here," he says, quietly.

Cook sighs deeply and David hopes it was okay that he asked. He doesn't want to seem nosy, but he knows that you won't learn unless you ask, and he wants to learn everything there is to know about Cook.

"You honestly have no idea?" asks Cook, and the other inmate sounds quite surprised. David feels stupid, feels as though he ought to know it somehow. He shakes his head no.

"I killed a guy," he says, and David can't help but smile at the seriousness of the tone. But when Cook doesn't smile or laugh or whatever and just stares at David like there is something wrong with him, he goes quiet. _Oh heck_.

"You—you really killed a…" he asks, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

"Yeah, because I'd joke about something like that," sneers Cook, and David flinches at the tone. "You really are something," says Cook, sounding acrimonious, and David now feels horrible. He should never have asked.

"Me too," he whispers, after a moment.

Cook looks at him for a couple of seconds, then turns his head and looks at the inmates' playing basketball in t-shirts even though it's so cold outside. David follows his gaze and sees the guy in the cell next to his own, Robbie Carrico, playing dirty. He elbows the other guys and David is sure that it's just a matter of time before a fight breaks out.

"I know," says Cook finally, sounding matter-of-fact about the whole thing. David shoots up from the bench and takes a couple of steps back, trying to process the words.

"What do you mean you know?" he asks, pointing his finger at Cook. He has no idea why he points, but it seems appropriate, so he doesn't lower it.

"Johns showed me your file," he says shrugging, and David can hardly think anymore. Inmate files are private and no one is supposed to look at them except for the… well, he has no idea who's authorized to look at them, but he very much doubts that another inmate is allowed to see them.

"How long have you known?" he asks, suddenly not feeling so good. He goes back to the bench and sits down next to Cook.

Cook places his arm back around David's shoulder, and David leans closer for the comfort. "Since an hour or so before I first saw you," he says.

Now David is even more confused. He doesn't get why Cook would have seen his file _before_ he decided to take the offer from Cook about protection. It just doesn't seem right and he feels like he's missing a vital piece of the puzzle.

"Why would Johns show you my file before we even met?" he asks, words barely audible.

He feels Cook shrugging, arms lifting slightly from around David before settling down again. "I think he felt sorry for you." That doesn't exactly make David feel better to hear. "You didn't kill the guy because you wanted to. It was self-defence and you even turned yourself in to the police. And then you had a fucked-up lawyer who couldn't tell heads from tails and who should have been able to get you free."

He sits there, frozen to the bench as Cook reminds him about what had happened. When Cook talks everything comes flooding back to him in bright flashes that makes him dizzy. He shudders at the memory of the knife and the blood that was suddenly all over the place and his hands, and he feels like he is once again stuck in a nightmare with no escape. He half expects to see his mom crying in the courtroom as the guards are taking him away, but this is not a dream. However, he does end up crying, tears gathering at the corner of his eyes before running don his cheeks, leaving trails of wetness behind.

"He wanted to rob me and pulled the knife when I didn't hand him my money," he whispers, more to himself than to Cook.

"You did what everyone else would have done in your situation," says Cook and gently wipes away the tears from David's cheeks that he hadn't even noticed were there in the first place. He sniffles and turns until he's practically straddling Cook, burying his face in the crook of Cook's neck. He knows that it's kind of disgusting with the snot and tears and a bit of drool, but right now he just wants to feel safe and there is no one who does that better than Cook. Cook wraps his arms around him and gently cradles David.

"I'm sorry," he finally says when he is no longer crying. He leans back to look at Cook.

"Don't be," says Cook, smiling and kisses him soundly on the lips.

"For fuck's sake Cook, people are watching," says Tiemann as he walks up to them. He stops for a few seconds when he sees that David has been crying, but then he continues, "I heard someone say in the TV room that you've gone soft."

Cook pushes David off from his lap and stands up, walking over to Tiemann. Tiemann sucks on the end up his cigarette, inhaling the smoke, and then smirks.

"Who?" practically snarls Cook, looking angry.

"That Garrett kid, you know the base head who sometimes rides with Chikezie and Castro."

David knows the three people in question. They are all harmless if you ask him. Cook however doesn't seem to think so.

"Look after David, I'll be right back," says Cook and starts to walk away. David reaches out for Cook, trying desperately to grab his boyfriend's arm but in vain. His fingers close around the air and Cook doesn't even look back at him when he asks for him to stop.

"He needs to put Garrett back in his place," says Tiemann when David looks accusingly at him. He takes another drag of his cigarette and blows out the smoke, which travels towards David. He coughs and looks after Cook until he can't see him anymore.

"But why? Garrett is no one. What he says doesn't matter much," whines David, frantically. He pities the other man. No one should have to be the end up Cook's temper, or so he has heard. He has never actually been the victim of it himself, not really, at least, but just as the rumor about Cook having killed a man is true, David now believes that there is some truth in this one as well.

"Listen kid," says Tiemann and walks over to sit on top of the table. "In here, all a man's got is his reputation. That's how we get by. If people think Cook's gone soft then it won't just affect him, but you and me and Andy and Kris. We'll all suffer, because people will start to think that it's okay to mess with us and even though we're strong, we won't be able to take on all the inmates' at the same time. Got it?"

David's eyes widen. He hasn't even thought about the consequences for becoming more involved with Cook. He almost falls down on the bench, and he tries to steady himself by grabbing the table but ends up grabbing a hold of Tiemann's jacket instead.

"How bad will he hurt him?" asks David softly, and closes his eyes. Tiemann reaches out and squeezes his shoulder.

"Don't count on seeing Garrett around anytime soon," is all he says. David gulps, nearly choking on the air.

"Oh," he says. That's all he can say really. He understands why it's necessary now, well, sort of, but it's still not nice to think about.

They sit there in silence, watching the inmates playing basketball. Or rather, fighting over the ball just liked David had predicted before. They watch as someone gets tired of the way Carrico plays and punches the scruffy looking inmate on the jaw. Carrico goes down but is quickly up again, throwing punches as good as he gets.

"Now that's a game," says Tiemann and smirks, the cigarette dangling from his fingers. David looks at it, watches as some of the ash falls to the ground when Tiemann moves his hand a bit. Then he looks at the fight.

"Are you here for the same reason Cook is?" he suddenly asks, surprising even himself with the question.

Tiemann doesn't look away from the fight, just leans down a bit and says, "Yes."

David doesn't understand how Tiemann can be so calm about it, or how anyone can kill someone without it being self-defence or an accident.

"We were in this bar watching the KC Royals play against this shitty team. Can't even remember who it was anymore. Anyway, we'd had a couple of beers too many maybe, and we might have been a bit too loud. But we were young and excited about the game and just, you know, generally happy," says Tiemann, eyes still on the fight. David looks up at the tattooed man, realizing that he is about to learn how it happened—what made Cook and Andy Skib and Tiemann end up in here in the first place.

"Then after the game – which we won, of course – when we were about to leave the bar, these guys, like five or so, walk up to Cook says that the KC Royals is a shitty team. Cook doesn't like when people criticize what he likes and it turned into this drunken fight. Fuck, I was so drunk I could barely stand and I think the other guys were pretty bad too."

David shifts in his seat and turns until he's looking directly at Tiemann.

"Then one of the guys pulls out a gun and fucking shoots at Cook. Thankfully he had like the shittiest aim ever and missed completely, but Cook tackled him and the gun went off. The others all went crazy and attacked Cook who was just lying there covered in some other guy's blood. I could see the gun lying there on the ground and I picked it up. Then one of the guys kicks Cook in the head and I shoot."

He leans forward, hand touching Tiemann's knee, silently begging him to continue. Tiemann finally looks away from the fight and down at David's hand, but before he gets a chance to pull his hand away, Tiemann grabs it and covers David's tiny hand with his own tattooed one, the letters G-O-E-S visible.

He swallows and Tiemann squeezes his hand gently before releasing it again.

"And Andy?" he asks.

"Andy was with us. We all hid at Andy's place for a couple of days but they found us. Andy's in here for disruption of peace, aiding _and_ hiding two killers. He doesn't have much of his sentence left though."

"But that's so unfair! He shot at Cook first!"

Tiemann just shrugs as if he doesn't care who shot whom first. He sits there, feeling horrible for Cook and Tiemann, wondering if there is any justice left in the world at all.

"And Kris?" he lastly asks, figuring that maybe Tiemann will be in the mood to continue with the storytelling.

"You need to ask Kris about that."

Then the yard is filled with armed guards, a siren going off. Tiemann throws the cigarette away and lies down on the grass. David lies down next to him, his hand reaching out to touch Tiemann's larger one. Their fingers dance together in this weird dance, touching then not touching until finally Tiemann closes his fist around David's hand and holds him.

 _Oh_.

"Thanks for saving Cook," he whispers, even though there is no point in whispering as there are no other inmates anywhere near close to where they lie on the grass.

"That's what friends are for," says Tiemann and looks at him directly in the eyes. David offers the other man a timid smile, before turning his head to look at what's happening around them. Two guards are pulling Carrico away from the yard, and another two are dragging along the other man who had also been involved in the fight.

David's thoughts stray to Cook, wondering what the other inmate is doing now. He hopes Cook is going to be okay. He knows that Cook can take care of himself, but the thought of Cook possibly ending in dissociation kind of scares him. It is Cook though, he reminds himself. Cook knows how to handle himself.

Still, he knows he will not be able to completely relax until Cook has come back from wherever he disappeared to.

~

David can't decide if he likes showering in the mornings or the evenings better. Well, that's not completely true. He prefers morning showers. There are less inmates' who shower in the morning, but showering in the morning means that you usually ends up missing more than half of breakfast, which is kind of short enough as it is. Still, he kind of likes that, as that means there is less who can look at him. Cook prefers to shower after dinner, but so do a lot of other inmates. But ever since he became Cook's punk (and David absolutely loathes that word), as the inmates so expressively call it, what Cook says goes. Simple as that.

Tonight though, there are thankfully quite a couple of showers free, as there are only about ten or so other inmates in here at the moment. Tiemann claims one quickly, throwing the towel from around his waist on the bench and moves under the cascading water. Cook pulls at David's towel, which he reluctantly lets go of and watches as it's placed on the bench as well. He kind of wants to fold it, or at least place it nicely so that the corner doesn't touch the wet floor, but Cook pushes him forward towards the showerhead next to Tiemann. Less than a second later, Cook is standing behind him and turns the knobs until the water is as warm as it can get (lukewarm still).

A couple of showerheads away a third one is turned on shortly after, and David turns his head to see Andy and Kris sharing it. They don't seem to mind sharing though. In fact, they don't seem to even notice anything around them. David kind of envies them for their complete lack of issue with standing naked in a room of tattooed, and like totally gangster, men.

David is self-conscious though, and as always tries to cover his privates as good as he can. In fact, he is so focused on keep himself covered that he almost jumps when someone touches his back, but then he recognizes the feel of Cook's hand, warm and big and calloused and _gentle_.

"Such a jumpy pet," says Cook, loud enough for people to hear. Some of the inmates snicker at the comment, but no one says anything. Tiemann clears his throat though, but that's it.

Ever since their first shower together, Cook has taken a liking to sharing showers with David, and ever since they became an actual couple, Cook has taken over washing David's body all over. He still squirms from embarrassment when he feels the hands running expertly over his skin, massaging muscles he didn't even know he had. But it's nothing uncommon, he guesses, seeing as he has actually seen quite a few inmates do this – washing their punks, that is. Or, you know, Andy and Kris do it too at least. The guards don't tell them to not do it, so David figures that though it's probably against the rules, it's so common that they are just allowed to do it.

He glances shyly at Kris who's washing Andy's back, looking quite determinedly. It's kind of adorable, really, because when Kris is determined his tongue kind of sticks out as he bites down on it.

"Wash my back bitch," says Tiemann to Cook, laughing. David turns his head to watch the exchange between the two men, the water running into his eyes.

Cook laughs too, a low throaty laughter that makes David shiver. He kind of likes Cook's laughter. There is something about it that makes him smile and _want_ at the same time.

"Like fuck I will," says Cook, and lets go of David to cuff Tiemann on the shoulder. "Get a punk to do it for you."

"Yeah well, I ain't got a punk, now do I?" says Tiemann, and David swears he can hear something sounding very much like bitterness in Tiemann's tone.

"David, wash Neal's back for him."

David looks curiously up at Cook, and Cook gives him this weird look. He nods, stepping away from Cook's embrace and moves over to squeeze some soap into his hand from the soap holder that hangs on the wall. Then he walks slowly over to Tiemann who watches his every move closely.

"Um," he says, and waits for Tiemann to turn around. He glances swiftly over at Cook who nods at him, and then reaches out to touch Tiemann's back gently. It feels weird touching someone else's back other than Cook's, but not unpleasant either. Tiemann's skin is _soft_ under his hands, unblemished except for the tattoos that wind along the skin, almost cupping every muscle gracefully.

He casts a quick glance at Cook who watches them closely, and then looks past Cook and locks eyes with Kris who lifts an eyebrow incredulously at him, the ghost of a smile on his lips. Andy Skib seems to be watching Cook though, instead of him.

David coughs and shivers as the air in the room seems to feel colder now that he's no longer standing under the flow of the showerhead. As if sensing David's trembling, Tiemann moves forward a bit without even glancing over his shoulder and David gratefully steps forward too. The muscles flex under his hands and he can't help but stare in wonder at the sight of it. The other inmate is tall, at least more than one head taller than David himself. His soapy hands reach the neck, and he ponders quickly what to do now, but then decides to run his hands over the neck for a few seconds before continuing down the shoulders.

He steps back, holding his hands up in the air awkwardly while the water slowly but surely removes all the traces of soap.

"Thanks man," says Tiemann and turns around. David stares at the chest, blushes and looks down only to blush even more.

"You're, um… yeah," he says and walks back to Cook who's looking curiously at him. David lowers his eyes to the floor and moves so close to his boyfriend that whatever water that hit's Cook's hair repels and then hits David in his face.

A big hand touches his neck, squeezing possessively, and then Cook leans down and kisses him deeply. David closes his eyes, his hands going up to touch Cook's chest, fingers sprawling against the heartthrob tattoo on Cook's left side. He can't feel it, but he can feel Cook's heart hammering away underneath it, and it feels amazing.

"Turn around," demands Cook, barely breaking away from David's lips to say this. David obeys, his hands immediately going up to rest on the damp tiles.

Cook's finger runs smoothly down the cleft of his ass and further down between the cheeks. David flushes, the coloring creeping forth all over his body until his torso, neck and face are a pale red color. He briefly wonders if this is the day that Cook will touch that spot within him that made him kind of see stars.

Cook touches his pucker and his breath hitches in his throat.

"You want it?" asks Cook, voice sounding husky and low and David lets out a moan before he can help himself. "I want you," whispers Cook, only for David to hear. He nods, too shy to say the words.

Cook pulls him out of the shower and back to the towels, quickly picking up both of them and handing one to David. It's the wrong one, and he watches as Cook dries himself with David's towel. But instead of saying anything, he wraps Cook's around his body instead and smiles. They dress quickly, too quickly perhaps, and David somehow manages to put his shirt on with the wrong side turned out.

Then they are off, Cook grasping David's hand tightly as they weave in and out of inmates' and then they stop when they reach Cook's cell. David goes in and sits shyly on the lower bunk, eyes on his boyfriend for the entire time it takes Cook to pull off Tiemann's sheet and use it to shield them from the hall.

Taking their clothes off takes longer than it had taken to put it them on and David still needs to remove his pants when Cook is standing naked in front of him again. He looks, eyes wide and curious as he takes in every inch of Cook's body.

Cook reaches out and helps him in getting rid of the pants, slowly sliding them down over David's hips and down to the knees. Thumbs run smoothly over the bare skin in the process, tremors of exhilaration taking over him. He feels alive; like this is the moment he has been waiting for all of his life.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," says Cook, looking up at him. David smiles bashfully and reaches out to cup Cook's face between his hands, loving the way Cook's stubble prickles against his hands.

"You too," he answers, allowing Cook to pull him over to the bed, laying him on his back so that they can see each other. Cook is gentle and makes sure to prepare David as much as possible, using some kind of lotion that David has no idea where he got from and stretches him open with his fingers. It's awkward and uncomfortable and it hurts like nothing has ever hurt before. At first at least, but then it gets better, and when Cook teasingly probes his fingers in and touches that spot within him, he sees stars again.

"Turn around," says Cook after a couple of long pleasurable moments, and David almost whines. Partly because that means that Cook will remove his fingers, but mostly because then he won't be able to look at Cook. "It'll hurt less," breathes Cook, and leans down to kiss him on the neck, tongue dancing over the constant bluish bruise that David now wears proudly.

"I want to see you," he says tentatively, reaching up to tug a short strand of hair behind Cook's ear. It stays there for exactly three seconds before falling loose again. Cook looks at him, and in the end David does as his boyfriend says and detangles himself from the older inmate.

"Next time," promises Cook when David is lying on his stomach, and David silently notes that down. It's awkward and uncomfortable, and he feels decidedly embarrassed to lie there naked under Cook, ass on display and his penis rubbing painfully against the itchy and stiff linens. He twists his fingers into the sheet, trying to relax. He is nervous, his heart beating faster and faster until he finally feels the slick fingers return, teasingly running in circles around his hole before pushing one finger slightly in, quietly pumping it in and out in shallow thrusts a couple of times before adding another one.

Cook uses his fingers some more, making sure that David is properly stretched, which David appreciates more than anything. David moans, trying to ignore the dull stab of pain that shoots up his spine and instead focuses on the good parts, such as the spot within him that feels so good, and the thought of being connected with Cook in such an intimate way that only true lovers are.

Then Cook presses in, opening David to the point where he thinks he might just split in half. He whines, tears welting up in his eyes until his sight becomes a blur and he has to close them in order not to get dizzy.

"Shush," whispers Cook, pushing in a bit before pulling out again, "just breathe. The pain will be over soon." David's breath hitches in his throat and he completely forgets how to breathe even though that's all he can think about doing. Cook continues to push in before pulling slightly out. It hurts all over and he is fairly sure that he's now weeping like a kid, but he can't stop himself.

Then he feels Cook's thighs pressing up against his ass, balls slapping against his skin, and wow, Cook is completely sheathed within him. Cook stays like that for so long that David wonders if that was it.

"Sorry," hisses Cook behind him, "I have to stay like this for a while, otherwise I'm afraid I won't be able to control myself." The last is said with a laugh, and David can't help but smile affectionately into the linens.

"You feel amazing," whispers Cook and leans down to kiss David on the shoulder. David's heart flutters at the touch, and slowly but sure the pain starts to fade until there is only a lingering sting left that he tries to ignore.

Cook places his arms on either side of David and leans down to kiss his shoulders and neck and the cheek that is facing upwards.

"Relax, I'm going to start moving now," Cook tells him, and David exhales soundly and wills his body to relax. He manages to do so for exactly two seconds before the pain returns. However, he is mid-wince when Cook touches that spot within him and his toes curl together, his eyes rolling back.

"Oh," he utters, surprised and amazed.

"Promised you it would be good," is all Cook says, sounding completely out of breath, but David can hear the smirk behind the words; can feel it all the way into his bones when Cook's hips snap and skin meets skin.

He tries to move; tries to raise his head, but then Cook picks up the pace, hips snapping swiftly and each time Cook's penis touches that bundle of nerves that makes David go completely numb and seeing stars at the same time. He pants, shallow breathes of air barely filling his lungs before rushing out again.

"Cook," he says, dazed.

"Touch yourself," murmurs Cook and leans down to cover David's neck with kisses and bites.

David lets go of the sheet and snakes his left hand down between his body and the linens, warm delicate fingers curling around his hard length. It only takes one tug before he comes, a whine leaving his lips that turns into a moan when Cook fills him.

After, as he cuddles as close to Cook's chest as he can without difficulty, he can overlook the aching of his ass and the slight wetness that dribbles out of his opening, because his heart is beating against his ribcage with love, and love conquers anything.

"We should get you cleaned up," whispers Cook against his skin, wet trails of kisses showering every surface of skin that his boyfriend can reach.

"Yeah," he replies, and presses himself even closer to Cook's chest. "In a minute," he adds, satisfied with just laying there for some time to soak up the feeling.

~

"I wish I could have gotten you a Christmas present," David says, looking pensively at the decorations that are hanging in the cafeteria. It's supposed to put them all in a Christmas mood, but all it really does is remind David that he's not spending Christmas at home with his family for the first time ever. He looks at Cook and tries to smile.

"Don't worry babe," says Cook, placing his arm around David's shoulder and pulling him closer until David is practically sitting in his boyfriend's lap. "I'll be happy to get the same as you got me for my birthday."

David blushes and looks down at his breakfast to avoid the other's eyes on him. He had gotten Andy Skib to help him persuade Johns to allow them to use one of the conjugal visit rooms the entire day. Though there had been little persuasion to be done, as Johns had just laughed and slapped David on the shoulder and told him that he would even make sure the room was filled with lube. Which it definitely had been, and though they had used a lot of the smaller packages containing the slick substance, Cook had still been able to bring back more than enough for plenty of times more.

Just thinking about Cook's birthday makes him embarrassingly hard in his pants and his ass clenches with anticipation. But unfortunately he hasn't asked Johns again, too embarrassed to try asking the guard for help once more.

"Um," he says and quickly picks up a piece of bread, eating it slowly so that he doesn't have to talk about it anymore.

"You're not using our cell again, because I'm tired of waiting around for you to finish fucking so that I can return to a cell that smells like sweat and sex," interrupts Tiemann, looking pointedly at Cook. Cook returns the glare but says nothing.

David glances at Tiemann, a bit sad that the man's birthday had come and gone without him noticing it until the day after. When he had told Cook this, his boyfriend had just waved it off and said that Tiemann doesn't celebrate his birthday anymore. But still, David thinks everyone should get something for their birthday, whether it's is a card or… well, he can't really think of anything else right now.

"We're going to leave now," says Andy and stands up, Kris' hand grabbed tightly in his. Kris is smiling and David can't help but smile too, because he knows that Kris has managed to get his hands on a gift for Andy. He is fairly sure that Andy has one for Kris too if the package that is in their cell is something to go by.

He watches as Andy and Kris leaves, their hands no longer interlaced together, but they still walk so close that there is no question that Kris belongs to Andy Skib (and Andy Skib belongs to Kris too).

They continue to eat, though it is now in silence. David shifts awkwardly in his chair as he reaches for his juice. He looks sideways and sees that Cook and Tiemann are staring at each other, though for what it's worth, it doesn't seem hostile. More like they are silently communicating, and David understands that whatever is going on right now is not something he should meddle in, so instead he glances around, taking in the other inmates and their surroundings.

The cafeteria looks different with a scattered amount of ornaments hanging about, and he notices that even a lot of the inmates seem to be behaving different. For example, Carrico, his next-door cellmate is laughing and smiling. Even Colton and Hernandez seem in a better mood. At least they are no longer sending him looks that make him cower and walk closer to Cook.

"Castro," says Cook suddenly, reaching out to grab a guy's arm when he walks past. David turns and looks, and sees the guy with dreadlocks that he knows hangs out with Chikezie and the Garrett guy that Cook had beaten up a couple of weeks ago. He tentatively reaches out to touch Cook's arm, afraid that there will end up being some kind of confrontation that will ruin the day completely.

"I got your stuff," says Castro, leaning closer down to Cook. "I've got it in my cell." Huh. Well, that was not what David had expected at all. Cook nods and releases Castro's arm, and the inmate with dreadlocks continues walking through the cafeteria until he reaches Chikezie who is apparently waiting for him at the entrance.

"Castro is this place's best lugger, there's nothing he can't get his hands on," explains Tiemann. David turns to look at the tattooed man who is sitting across from him and Cook, and nods though he has no idea what lugger is supposed to mean. He thinks he kind of gets the point though.

"So you managed to get it through security?" asks Tiemann, attention back on Cook. Cook nods and then they go back to being silent.

It unnerves David to just sit there, and without even realizing it, he is starting to hum a Christmas tune. It's _O Holy Night_ , a favorite of his as this is the one that his mom used to sing for him when he was younger. Cook ruffles his hair and David leans into the touch, smiling and continuing with his humming of the song.

After that one, he starts to hum another, and then another, and when the cafeteria is almost empty except for them, he even starts to sing along a bit. It doesn't feel like Christmas morning at all, but it's close. After all, as his mom used to tell his younger siblings when they would complain about one thing or another; it's not about the gifts but being with the ones you care about and David does care about Cook. In fact he loves the man, and even Tiemann has found his way into his heart somehow.

They get up and start to head out of the cafeteria, greeting Johns on their way, who returns their greeting by nodding, and offers them a smile that makes David flush red from embarrassment. Cook touches his neck, fingers idly playing with the mark on his neck as they walk.

They make it all the way to the cell when Tiemann stops and looks at Cook, "Hurry would you." It's not a request but a demand.

Cook looks down at David and David looks curiously at Cook, wondering what's going on.

"What if you didn't have to wait," says Cook suddenly and David tilts his head to the side and looks confused at his boyfriend. Tiemann, however, seems to understand exactly what Cook is talking about, blue eyes looking at Cook then David and then back to Cook again.

"Fuck, Cook. You shouldn't offer something like that," says Tiemann and shakes his head, eyes closing momentarily before returning to Cook again, now burning fiercely with something akin to hatred. David unconsciously takes a step away. "It's not fair. Especially because I know it's something you've just decided and I don't want to… well, fuck. You're an ass." Tiemann's voice has now gone low, but the words are practically hissed.

"Give me five minutes," says Cook and turns to David who is now even more so confused than before.

"Cook?" he asks, and looks at his boyfriend with wide eyes.

"Get into the cell," demands Cook and David obeys without even thinking about it, his body automatically responding to Cook's voice. His sits on the lower bunk like always and waits for the other inmate to explain what is happening. He feels stupid, because he is fairly sure that Kris would have instantly known what was going on.

"Neal shouldn't be alone on Christmas morning," says Cook and sits down next to him. David releases a breath he hadn't been aware that he was holding in. He can totally understand that. No one should be alone on Christmas morning. But then Cook gives him one of those looks that makes him befuddled and continues, "I mean that I think he should be with us, just for today."

His eyes narrow as he tries to make sense of the words. "You mean… wait, what exactly do you mean?" he finally asks, because honestly, he is starting to get the feeling that there is more to Cook's words and he doesn't know how to feel about that.

"Neal is a great friend. He's always there for me when I need him and I cannot count the amount of times that he's saved my–"

"Oh," says David, suddenly understanding where this is going.

"–ass. I don't want him to be _alone_."

"Cook," he whispers, not sure how he's feeling about all of this. It feels like he can't breathe properly and there is something fluttering about in his stomach that makes him feel a bit queasy. _Oh gosh_.

"I won't force you to do it," continues Cook, though David sort of get the vibe that Cook wouldn't exactly be above something like that. "But yeah."

He really likes Cook, he really does, but right now he also kind of hates him for putting him in this situation. He feels like he might just cry at any point now, and he hates feeling this helpless and confused. Part of him wishes he could crawl back to his cell and hide there, but he now he has to say something.

David thinks about it, wondering how best to say no, because he just wants Cook. Not anyone else. He ignores that small little nagging voice in his head that calls him a liar, because maybe he kind of does like Tiemann a little. Not like the way he likes Cook, because Cook is someone he _loves_ , but... David is startled by this but forces himself to ignore it for now, pushing it down and saving it, as there are more important things to worry about. Such as Cook wanting him to do _that_ with Tiemann. He thinks about Tiemann, and comes to the conclusion that he has definitely grown fond of the other inmate who has, as Johns promised him on his first day in here, taken him under his wing too in his own way.

And he has noticed the looks that Tiemann sometimes gives him, and the way that when they watch TV in the TV room, Tiemann's hand sometimes reaches out and pets his hair. He sits there on the bunk, head in his hands as Cook slowly rubs his back. And then he starts to think about Tiemann missing out on a birthday and how he just half an hour ago had wished that he could have given the tattooed man something.

"I…" he says, swallowing and licking his lips that have gone dry all of a sudden. Cook's hand travels further up until it's resting against his neck. Then he nods, only once, but that was all Cook needed anyway it seems, because his boyfriend is up from the bed before David can take it back.

"Cook," he whispers, voice hoarse and dry. He feels nervous, more nervous than he has ever been in his life before. Cook just smiles and leans down, kissing him deeply, intimately.

"I'm enamoured with you," Cook tells him, gazing intently at him in a way that makes David shiver slightly, lips parting softly though no sound is emitted from them.

"And I, um, really, really like _you_ ," he says back, not quite ready to take the next step and use the other four letter word, that funnily enough also starts with an L. Cook's smile widens before he nods, seemingly understanding what David means with those words even though David isn't so sure that he has managed to say it in the correct way. What he wants to say is that though he is agreeing to this, he does it because he kind of, maybe, loves Cook and Cook asked this of him. Oh heck, David can't help but shift in his seat as Cook leaves the cell and comes back with Tiemann who looks positively humble and so tense that David forgets how you inhale and exhale properly.

"You sure?" asks Tiemann, a glint of hopefulness in his eyes that makes David smile shyly, the corner of his lips moving just a tad as he tries to reassure the older man that yes, he is sure and won't go back on his word.

Tiemann moves forward and cups David's head in his large palms, lifting David's head unhurriedly until they are looking at each other.

"Cook, hang up the sheet," says Tiemann without breaking eye contact. David can see Cook from the corner of his eyes, moving around and hanging up the sheet from the top bunk (Tiemann's), securing the white sheet so that people from the outside can't see in.

Cook returns to Tiemann's side, looking intriguingly down at David. Tiemann's lips twitch a bit until a ghost of a smile appears on the thin lips. David looks at the lips, finding himself looking for any indication that the inmate really did have snakebite piercings there before he got in here just like Kris had told him.

Then Tiemann lets go of David's cheek and turns to Cook, hand reaching up to cup Cook's neck and pull him closer. David's mouth opens in awe as he sees the two men's tongues battling for dominance. Tiemann wins, and though no one else might have noticed it if watching, David definitely sees how Cook seems to be surrendering to the taller man. In the end, he has to look away because it seems like such an intimate, private moment and he feels like an intruder. It feels as though his heart is in his throat and he tries to swallow it.

"David," says Cook barely breaking away from Tiemann's lips. A hand is held out in front of him, and he takes it half-heartedly, and rises when Cook pulls him closer.

"Fuck," hisses Tiemann when they finally do break apart. David glances up at the two men, feeling smaller than ever before. Then he is pulled into a kiss, Tiemann's tongue pressing through his lips and _oh_. David moans and moves when Cook pulls him even closer, their bodies pressing together in a weird combination. Hips and hands and lips are all connected in one way or another, and it doesn't feel as awkward or as odd as he thought it would.

"Such an eager pet," whispers Cook teasingly into his ear, and David tries to protest; tries to say that he is definitely not eager and that it's just Tiemann who's an extremely (wow) talented kisser, but all he does is open his mouth for Tiemann even more, and he wastes no time in devouring David completely.

A large hand cups his penis through the thin layer of clothes and his hips automatically buck forward into the warm hand. David really can't tell right now who the hand belongs to, but it feels kind of amazing and standing there in-between Cook and Tiemann, does not feel weird at all. In fact, as Cook nibbles on his neck, bringing forth the color on his mark as Tiemann kisses him deeply, he feels rather wanted and protected and his heart swells in his chest until it is hammering harshly away against his ribs, _dunk dunk dunk_.

Deep down, he thinks this is wrong and he worries what people will say. What Kris, Andy Skib… what his _mom_ will say if she ever finds out that he is not only dating a man but he is also making out with his boyfriend's best friend while his boyfriend is eagerly participating. A hand creeps down his pants and grabs his penis and Davis now recognizes the hand. Cook. Cook murmurs sweet nothings into his ear as he starts to jerk David's penis slowly. His mind goes blank as he tries to just focus on how it feels, because right in this moment, that's all he really can do.

~

It is already the last day of January, and David can hardly understand how time seems to have gone by so quickly after Christmas. As he walks down the corridor, heading towards the cells, his mind wanders to what happened between him, Cook, and Tiemann on Christmas morning. It had been repeated on New Years Eve day, well sort of anyway. New Years Eve day had actually mostly been him and Cook, but Tiemann had been sitting next to them and watched as David made Cook come (twice).

He turns a corner, blushing slightly as the memories seem to take over him completely. Tiemann hadn't said a word the second time, but instead just reached out a large hand and petted his hair, encouraging him to take Cook deeper into his mouth, and David had done his best to please both men by opening his mouth wider and trying to relaxing his throat. Even now, a month later, he still sometimes can feel the hand in his hair and the end of Cook's penis touching the back of his throat, and maybe he doesn't hate it as much as he thinks he ought to.

The other inmates are out in the yard, and David was supposed to have been there too. But moments before they were allowed outside, Yeager had come and told him that he had a visitor. The visitor had turned out to be none other than Andrew Cook, Cook's younger brother. They hadn't said much at first, David shifting uncomfortable in the seat, but then Andrew had started to tell him all these crazy stories about Cook as a child and David had listened and smiled and giggled for almost an hour before Andrew had to leave again. He never did get why Andrew wanted to see him, of all people, but he appreciated it still. In fact, it made his relationship with Cook seem a bit more real. As he walks towards the door leading to the outside, he silently promises himself that next time his mom comes to see him, he will tell her all about Cook.

"Hey there," says a voice behind him, and David turns around to see Colton and Hernandez standing awfully close to him. He picks up his pace, walking determinedly towards the door, eager to get outside to Cook again. "What's the rush?" asks Colton and matches his pace, a pale arm going around his shoulder. David tries to shake it off, but pointy nails bite into his shoulder.

"Cook will get mad," he tries, because really, that's the best ammunition he's got right now. Cook has promised to protect him in here, and so far the whole protection thing has gone really well. No one has dared to touch him, afraid to go against Cook and ultimately Tiemann too. So he can't help but wonder why the heck Colton and Hernandez seem to no longer care about all of this.

Colton stops him, and David reluctantly stops walking, eyes fixed on the door, "Yeah, well," says Colton, smirking and shrugging casually as if he doesn't care one bit about Cook's wrath. "Your daddy ain't here right now, and I doubt you'll even be able to tell him who made you dance on a blacktop once we're finished with you."

Right, so David has no idea what dancing on a blacktop even means, but Colton must be more stupid than he had originally thought if he seriously expects David not to tell Cook about this. Not that he will need to tell Cook much, because Cook always seems to know stuff in here about everyone.

"I _will_ tell Cook," he threatens in his meanest voice, though he's fairly sure that it doesn't sound mean at all, especially not when his voice cracks a bit, making him instead sound like a scared child. When Hernandez starts to laugh, he knows that it hadn't helped at all.

David opens his mouth, prepared to scream his lungs out when someone hits him on the back of his head. Tiny dots of black appear before his eyes, and it suddenly seems difficult to concentrate.

Next time he opens his eyes, he is in the infamous limbo room. Cook had showed him the limbo room one afternoon a couple of months ago, and David has never been back there since then. Until now, anyway. The limbo room is actually part of the room next to the showers. It's in a blind spot though, when it comes to the cameras, which makes it ideal for using it as a punishment room.

David shivers, his mind finally catching up with him as he stands there with his back to the wall and two smirking faces in front of him. Colton reaches out and David winces and tries to move his head. Pain erupts from the spot on the back of his head where he had been hit before, and all he manages to do is whimper softly.

"When we're done with you, not even the likes of Cook will want you," hisses Colton. All David can focus on is how pale Colton's skin is, and how very nonexistent the eyelashes seem to be. Hernandez is the complete opposite of Colton. His skin is slightly dark, as if sun-kissed, and instead of the white hair Hernandez' hair is black. Like David's.

And then he screams; his voice hoarse and dry and his throat hurt a bit. Hernandez puts a hand over his mouth and David instinctively bites it, hard, teeth sinking into the skin, leaving visible marks. Hernandez swears loudly and pulls back, back-handing David across the mouth. It hurts, a lot, and tears start to prickle at the corner of his eyes, but he doesn't give up. He starts to push and shove, kicks with his legs the best that he can, pleased when his foot connects with something.

"Let him scream," snarls Colton. "No one can hear him in here anyway."

David continues to scream, Cook's name leaving his lips. When no one comes to his rescue, he screams for Tiemann too, and Andy Skib and Kris. But mostly, he just screams for Cook.

Hernandez punches him in the stomach, and David has to stop screaming as all the air is knocked out of him. He doubles over, and the tears that threatened to spill before now fall freely. There is another punch against his stomach, and a third and a fourth.

He cries now, ashamed for not being able to hold his tears back and for not being able to get away.

"I hate you," hisses Colton and cuffs him hard on his ear, his head twisting with the blow. "You are pathetic."

And David kind of does feel pathetic right now. Still, he refuses to go down without a fight and uses what strength he has left to lunge out at his two attackers. He manages to surprise them a bit, because they both move back, which gives him room to run.

The black spots dance in front of his eyes, making it difficult to orientate himself, but he sees the opening coming closer and closer. He just needs to get out of here and into a room with cameras, and then he will be safe.

Fingers curl in his hair, holding onto the dark strands tightly, forcing him backwards. He loses his balance and falls back, head slamming harshly down into the cement floor. He cries out and tries to grab onto the hand still in his hair, his nails scraping over skin in an attempt to separate himself with the inmate holding him. He looks up, eyes wildly seeking the person and sees that it is Colton.

"Let me go," he pleads, trying desperately to remove the hand. Colton just laughs for a couple of seconds, then curses and snarls at him when David's nails seem to break the skin on the wrist.

"Don't just stand there," hisses Colton over his shoulder and David sees Hernandez through his teary eyes standing a bit away from them. The third inmate doesn't look happy though, and David notices him look at the opening.

"Please, Hernandez," he tries. Hernandez looks away, so David tries again, "Cook will hurt you for this."

He knows deep down that threatening your attackers might not be the smartest move, but he feels like he has to at least try. Besides, it's true. Cook will hurt them, just like he hurt that Garrett kid who accidentally told the wrong inmates that he thought Cook had gone soft. Garrett had paid for it, three weeks in the hospital wing with broken ribs and a broken leg. Everyone knew that it was Cook who had done it, even though Cook had managed to escape solitary confinement. Thanks to Johns who had managed to handle the situation.

"Remember what he did to Garrett?" he tries, whimpering and crying out as Colton manages to kick him in the ribs while still holding on to his hair.

"Shut your fucking mouth," yells Colton, and David sees Hernandez take a step closer to them.

"Colton, man, mayb–" starts Hernandez, but is quickly cut off by Colton.

"Grow a fucking pair, Hernandez! We fucking talked about this."

Hernandez nods absently, and David prays that the inmate will somehow put a stop to all of this. Unfortunately, David's prayer is not heard, because Hernandez steps over and replaces Colton's hold on his hair.

"Hernan–" he tries, tears blurring his sight. Colton kicks him viciously in the side, and suddenly David can no longer breathe properly. Everything hurts and he lies there, gasping for air. A kick to his head is followed quickly, and David can hear a gleeful laugh filling the room, the echo bouncing off of the plain white walls, surrounding him.

"Cook," he whispers, blood covering his teeth. Another kick to his face, abrupt pain taking over as soon as the foot is gone again, blood gushing from his nose.

He feels a hand painfully grabbing him between the legs, squeezing hard.

"No," he hisses, swallowing some of the blood, and coughs as he tries to squirm away. "No," he says again, frantically trying to kick with his own legs but to no avail. All he hits is the empty air, the heels of his shoes clashing down into the cemented floor tiredly.

He can no longer see properly; blood and tears blurring his eyesight, stomach aching with pain.

"What the fuck!"

David turns to the sound of the voice, immediately recognizing it. Cook. He hears rather than sees someone fighting. A slap against the wall, shoes moving harshly and feet being dragged across the floor. He tries to wipe his eyes, and manages to succeed just a bit. He watches as Cook kicks Colton, watches as Colton curls up on the floor not that far away from David, watches as Hernandez tries to make a run for it but Tiemann grabs him by the collar of his shirt and hits him square on the jaw. He watches until he can no longer watch anymore; until all he can focus on is trying to breathe.

Tender hands hover over his face, lightly touching his cheeks every now and then, soft, caring murmurs whispered into his ear, "David, you're going to be alright." It's Kris. He blinks, trying to focus. He sees Kris and Andy Skib kneeling at his side and behind them Tiemann, as he watches Cook kick and punch Colton and Hernandez, showing them no mercy. He shudders, tired and in pain.

"Cook," he calls meekly, voice barely audible against the loud sounds of pained groans. Tiemann puts a hand on Cook's shoulder, and David watches as Cook turns, face red from anger.

"David," is all Tiemann says. Or at least that's what David thinks the tattooed man says. There is this weird ringing sound that fills the room.

Cook walks over fast and Kris and Andy Skib barely have time to move away before Cook drops to his knees and cradles David's face between his bloodied hands. David can't decide if the tears he sees are his own and are clouding his sight or if Cook really is crying.

"Don't worry," says Cook, voice breaking as he speaks, "they won't hurt you again."

Johns is the first guard on the scene and David observes from his spot on the floor as Johns' eyes go wide and mouth falls open. Hands reach up and pulls at the hair, making it stand in weird directions.

"Cook, for fucks sake!" yells Johns, waving his arms around dramatically. "What the fuck have you done?"

Cook doesn't answer, and David doesn't think it sounds like a question either. He looks at Cook, tries to smile as his boyfriend uses his thumb to wipe away some of the blood that has gathered at the corner of his mouth. His tongue darts out and licks at his lips that have gone dry. He can taste the blood, and the tip of his tongue touches Cook's thumb.

"I can't bloody hell save you from this one. I barely managed to fix it for you last time, mate."

Soon, the room is swamped with guards, Yeager and Luke Menard standing behind Johns, both lifting their truncheons up so everyone can see that they have them and that they are willing to use them.

"Cook, you're going in solitary confinement until further notice," says Yeager, stepping forward.

David looks at Cook, tries to beg for him to not leave him, but all that comes out is a choked groan.

"Neal. Look after him until I return. Don't let him leave your sight. You're going to protect him now," is all Cook says before he, with one final look at David, gets up and moves over to Johns. Johns gives Cook a sad look and pulls out his handcuffs from his belt, and Cook turns without a word and presents his hands at his back.

"David, I'll be back," promises Cook before Yeager and Johns take him away.

Tiemann moves over to David's side, taking Cook's place and grabs David's hand tightly in his. Andy Skib and Kris stand not too far away, watching them. Kris has tears in his eyes, and David tries to tell him that everything will be okay again. He is not sure that he believes it himself, but Kris' mouth gives him a weak smile.

Colton and Hernandez lie silently on the floor in the other corner and David tries not to pay them any attention. Tiemann squeezes his hand and David forces himself to return the squeeze even though it hurts. They wait for the medic team to come get them.

~

David stays in the infirmary for almost ten full days before the doctor tells him that he can no longer stay there. Hernandez is still there when he leaves, though he was placed in a separate room so that they didn't see each other. Colton had been transferred to another hospital on the first day due to complications. David is still in pain, though it's easier to walk around now with the meds that he has been given. Johns is the one who follows him back to the cells. The Australian guard makes these weird and awkward jokes about nothing at all, and David pretends that the jokes are funny and laughs politely, his face hurting every time he tries to smile.

They stop before they enter the cellblock, and David looks expectantly up at Johns. No one has told him much about Cook other than that he's still in dissociation.

Johns sighs and starts talking before David gets a chance to ask. "Cook will be there for a long time. He really hurt Hernandez and Colton and the warden doesn't like it when inmates fight. I made sure that he knew Cook did it to save you, but honestly, the warden has never been much of a Cook fan so chances are that he will be there for a couple of months."

David's eyes go wide as he looks at Johns. Months! He can hardly breathe at the thought of not seeing Cook for this long, and he briefly wonders what will become of him when Johns continues. "I've arranged it so that you can move into Tiemann's cell if you want until Cook returns. Or you can stay with Skib. It's up to you. That was the best I could do."

David nods; his eyes on the floor as he cradles his arm close to his chest.

"Archuleta, mate," says Johns, voice soft and caring. Johns hasn't called him by his last name since before he became Cook's boy. He nods again and looks up. "The choice is yours. If you want to stay with Skib, you can. And no one will think any less of you if you choose to move in with Tiemann until Cook returns."

He glances at the floor, unable to decide what to do. He tries to imagine what Cook will want him to do. Well, he kind of thinks that he _knows_ what Cook will want him to do, but he is not so sure that he can actually do it.

"I don't know," he whispers, slightly anxious for not being able to make a decision. He feels like he is back to square one, and he can't stop thinking about his first day in here nearly half a year ago. Memories of how frightened and how overwhelmed by everything he had been come back to him.

"Think about it. I'll come after dinner and ask again." Johns pats him awkwardly on the shoulder and then continues to walk. David sees Kris standing outside his and Andy Skib's cell, smiling tentatively when David nears him.

Johns looks at the two of them, greets Kris and then leaves. David looks at his shoes, uncomfortable and achy all over. He shifts from one foot to another. Then he looks up and meets Kris' gaze which is kind of sad. He frowns, confused.

"Hey," says Kris quietly and David smiles softly in return.

"I'm glad to see that you are alright," says Kris. David looks at him, somewhat angry because he is definitely not alright and he can't understand why Kris can't see that.

"We all missed you."

They stand there in silence for a couple of long seconds, neither of them speaking.

"I've missed you guys too," he finally says and means it. He smiles softly and Kris smiles back, looking almost relieved.

"Come on, let's get you settled in again then," says Kris and grabs his elbow to help him into the tiny cell. Everything looks normal. His pictures are all still where they belong, he thinks, seeing them there.

"Johns said I could move in with Tiemann until Cook returns if I want," he blurts out quickly. He doesn't know why he feels the need to tell Kris this, but Kris doesn't look overly surprised. In fact, he nods as if he can totally see the logic in that. David is still uncertain, but he is glad that at least one of them seems to know what to do. "What do you think?" he asks finally.

"I can't decide for you David, but maybe it's a good thing. Tiemann… Neal, he cares for you and he wants what's best for you. Plus, Cook made him promise that he would look after you from now on and maybe that easiest to do if you guys share a cell."

David sits on his bunk, one hand reaching out to touch the sheets. He moves around until he lies on the bed, head placed firmly on the pillow as he glances up at the bunk above him.

"Not sure I want to leave this cell though. I mean, I've gotten used to Andy Skib." Kris laughs at this and David's cheeks flush a bit red from embarrassment. He rolls his eyes and looks at Kris who stands next to the bed, leaning up against the wall.

"Andy will miss you if you decide to leave. He won't tell you, but I know that he will. Still, if you feel safer when being with Neal, then you should do it."

David has never told Kris about his time with Cook and Tiemann on Christmas morning or New Years Eve day, but he is fairly sure that Kris knows anyway. Kris always seems to know stuff like this. Or maybe it was because for the entire month after it happened the last time, David couldn't stop blushing every time Cook smirked at him or Tiemann glared at him.

"I don't know," he says quietly, more to himself than to Kris. Because he feels so conflicted; it's like all his emotions are running wild inside and he can't seem to keep them under control no matter what he does.

"Hey," says Kris, placing a hand on his shoulder to make him listen. David, however, jumps in his seat and stares with wide eyes at Kris, his breathing irregular, as he tries to focus on the person in front of him. "Hey, David, relax, it's just me," says Kris quickly and moves away, hand falling from David's shoulder.

"I…" he says, and then lifts his hands up and buries his face in them. Now he feels stupid. Because he knew that Kris was there, knew that it was Kris' hand. He had just momentarily zoned out, too wrapped up in his own thoughts, and the hand had startled him. "Sorry, I'm sorry," he mumbles, still trying to steady his breathing. His heart feels like it might just force its way out of his chest judging by the way it's hammering away.

"Don't apologize," says Kris gently, and David smiles in gratitude. Honestly, he didn't mean to react that way. It was irrational and awkward and just not him. Well, that's not entirely true. He has never been good with people touching him, but ever since he got in here, he has gotten used to Cook's constant touches.

"Just, um," he says, though he doesn't finish the sentence. He doesn't know what he wants to say.

And he doubts that Kris understands what he means either, yet the southern inmate just smiles and says, "I won't."

Kris sits down on the bunk next to David, leaving enough space between them that could easily fit another person. He silently appreciates that Kris does this, and slowly but surely, his heartbeat seems to go back to normal again.

"Jug-up," says Kris. He has learned that the inmates call meal-time 'jug-up' in here. He doesn't really see the point of making up another word when you can straightforwardly just say the correct word, but Kris uses it and he has even heard Cook use it on several occasions.

David nods absentmindedly. The thought of walking into the cafeteria where everyone knows what has happened makes him feel nauseous. "I'm not hungry," he says, shrugging.

Kris stands and looks down at him, and David can see his friend is worried. David doesn't say anything and Kris doesn't ask him to reconsider. A few seconds later, David watches as Kris leave the cell, leaving David behind. He closes his eyes and doesn't do anything when tears start to burn behind the closed lids. He has no idea how long he sits there, but next time he opens his eyes, Tiemann is standing in the opening of the cell, looking at him, startling David.

"Oh my heck," he almost yells, hand going up to rest on the left side of his chest. His heart is hammering away again. "Um, you scared me," he adds when Tiemann merely crosses his arms across his chest and lifts an eyebrow.

"Why aren't you at dinner," asks Tiemann, tone of voice sounding indifferent. David dislikes it when he can't tell what mood Tiemann is in. It makes him feel awkward, self-conscious and kind of like he ought to apologize even though he has no idea why or if it's even necessary.

"Not hungry," he lies. Not that he is really hungry, not yet at least, but he knows that he probably will be in an hour or so.

"Yeah well, fuck that. You're going to dinner now, and I don't care if I have to drag you there myself." Tiemann uncrosses his arms again and pushes away from the frame of the opening, walking towards David who in return cowers closer to the wall.

"Fuck, David." Tiemann sounds angry, and David can't help but pull his legs closer to his body. He knows he is being stupid, because even though Tiemann probably could (and would) hurt him given the chance, he knows that the tattooed inmate in front of him has promised Cook to look after him. "Don't fucking move away from me. Shit, I'm not going to hurt you."

However, one thing is to know the facts, and another is to actually _know_ them. The way David sees it, there's a difference between knowing and _knowing_. He knows that Tiemann won't hurt him, because there is no reason for him to do so nor has he even done anything to make David believe that it will happen. Deep down, however, David doesn't really know Tiemann that well. He doesn't know if Tiemann might just suddenly change his mind and hit him when he least expects it, because Cook has always been there for him to prevent something like that from happening.

"Listen, David," says Tiemann, voice suddenly low and soft. David looks up, confused and surprised at the same time. "You can't hide in here forever. You need food, otherwise you'll just end up wasting away and then Cook will be pissed when he gets out of dissociation because he cares so much about you."

David swallows a lump in his throat. His mouth opens and then closes, not sure what to say.

"I care too, you know," says Tiemann. David's eyes go wide, and Tiemann quickly clears his throat and adds, "And Kris and Andy care too. We all care."

"I know," he says, head bowed slightly. "And I care about you too." Inhale, exhale. "All of you," he corrects himself. "I'm just not sure if I'll be able to, you know, um, go out there and have people, um, stare at me and, um, stuff," he continues, practically stumbling over the words in the process. Just thinking about setting a foot back into the cafeteria makes his ribs ache and his arm hurt again.

"Yeah, well. I promised Cook to look after you, and that means that until he returns you are mine." David shivers at the possessiveness in Tiemann's voice. Though he figures that this is something Cook would make Tiemann promise, he only vaguely remembers what happened that day. Every time he tries to remember the details, all that he remembers if the excruciating pain and the feeling of being helpless.

"Get up," demands Tiemann, and David rises automatically from the bed without even thinking about it. He stares at the wall in front of him, surprised that he didn't even think twice about Tiemann's order. "Good," says Tiemann, sounding pleased. David turns his head and sees a small, faint smirk gracing Tiemann's lips.

They stand like that for a couple of seconds, David looking at Tiemann's mouth and Tiemann staring at him in return. Then a pale muscular arm reaches out, and David instinctively takes a step back, head moving away from the hand that looms in front of his face. His eyes widen as he looks tentatively up until he meets Tiemann's eyes. "What the fuck," says Tiemann, sounding a bit irritated.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, limbs completely frozen in shock.

"If anyone had seen that you'd be dead meat in seconds. They'd think that I, and Cook for God's sake, couldn't handle a mere punk like you." Tiemann doesn't just sound annoyed now, he sounds absolutely livid and David can't help but let out a small whimper in response.

"Stand the fuck still," hisses Tiemann and lifts his arm again, large hand reaching out for David's face. David nods, desperate to make it all okay again. As pathetic as it may sound, he knows that in order to survive in here, he needs someone to protect him, and if Cook is unable to do it, then he is glad that Tiemann has taken over the job.

"I just –"

Tiemann glares at him, making David stop talking immediately. "I'm not Cook. So here are some of my rules. Rule number one, no fucking talking unless spoken to. Number two, you do as I say when I say it, and finally number three, you don't walk around alone."

"Okay," he murmurs, barely recognizing his own voice as the word leaves his mouth. Tiemann looks surprised at him for a split second before pursing his lips shut and nodding curtly. David knows the rules are important, so he sees no reason to argue with them. He wonders briefly is he should tell Tiemann about Johns' offer, but Tiemann's first rule looms in the back of his mind, forcing him to stay quiet.

"Dinner now," says Tiemann, and David walks out of the cell, slow steps in order to prolong it as much as he can. He tries to tell himself that at least Kris and Andy will be there, and Tiemann too, when a large hand is placed possessively on his shoulder, urging him to walk faster.

He stumbles, blushes and lowers his eyes to the floor as he walks. Tiemann's thumb rubs soothing circles on the back of his neck, and David appreciates the small comfort, especially when they walk into the cafeteria and more than half of the inmates stop talking and instead watch them carefully. Tiemann just sneers as they walk further into the room, leading David to the line.

He can't help but think how very different from Cook that Tiemann is when Tiemann lets David carry one tray that he fills with two plates of something that David doesn't even want to think about what is, and drinks, and whatever else they walk past. Cook normally carries the tray, but this time it's David who carries it despite the fact that his arm is hurting. Still, the hand on his neck supporting him makes it bearable, and he finds that he doesn't really care about carrying the tray as long as there is someone who can carry him. Figuratively speaking, of course, he thinks, and smiles weakly for the first time since before his incident with Colton and Hernandez.

"David," says Kris, smiling in surprise as they sit down at the table. David looks up and smiles, looking sideways at Tiemann, silently asking for permission to speak.

"You can speak with Kris and Andy whenever you want," says Tiemann, rolling his eyes. David wants to point out that the first rule kind of said he couldn't do that, but he is grateful nonetheless that he doesn't have to ask for permission whenever he wants to chat with his friends. He looks at Tiemann curiously, silently wondering if the same goes with the other inmate who is now his protector in here.

"So, you gave him the no speaking rule?" asks Andy Skib, raising one eyebrow, looking none too pleased about that. Tiemann scowls and starts to eat, pointedly ignoring the question. Andy Skib isn't done yet though, because he continues soon after, saying, "And how will he tell you that he needs something if you have him be quiet around you?"

David looks shyly at Tiemann. He had wondered the same thing, and he hopes that he will get an answer.

"Fucking hell," swears Tiemann angrily, and David winces as the profanity. "Fine," David watches as he looks at Andy Skib, eyes narrowing into tiny slits before turning his gaze to David who quickly looks away. "You can ask questions or whatever, and you can talk with Kris and Andy all you fucking want, just don't bore me with long tales of your life and such if I don't tell you to."

David swallows, the non-existing lump in his throat seeming to get a bit smaller. "Thank you," he says quietly, smiling gently.

"So?" asks Kris, grinning. David looks at Kris, confused, not understanding the other inmate's question at all. "What are you going to do?" clarifies Kris, looking briefly at Tiemann before looking at David again.

"Oh, um," he says, picking up his carton of milk and takes a big sip of it. His tongue darts out to lick away all the traces of the milk, trying to prolong it for as long as he can. "I don't know."

Andy Skib shoots him a look, and David can see it in his cellmate's eyes before it actually happens. "Johns offered David to transfer cells until Cook returns."

Tiemann turns slowly, and David looks at his food, praying that this is all just a bad dream. Tiemann's hand squeezes his neck, not painfully, but David can definitely feel the strong fingers digging into his skin.

"David?"

That just made it a lot worse. Tiemann doesn't sound angry or, well, something. He just sounds disappointed, which is ten times worse. He never liked it when his mom chided him in that tone, and he definitely doesn't like it now from the inmate next to him either.

"You told me not to speak," he tries, though fully knows that it's pathetic to use that excuse. Truth is that he isn't sure about what he wants to do yet, so it was easier to just not say anything at all.

" _David_ ," interrupts Kris, and David blushes and sighs.

"You're moving into my cell after dinner." Tiemann continues to eat and David takes another drink from his milk carton. "And we need to put my mark on you now." David drops the carton – drops of white liquid splashing everywhere – hand instinctively going up to touch the spot on his neck where Cook's mark used to be but no longer is because it has faded away.

"Don't worry, I'll mark you somewhere else," is all Tiemann says, and David doesn't know if he likes the sound of that or not.

~

Tiemann watches as he hangs up the picture of his siblings, and David tries to ignore his new cellmate as much as possible, which really is quite impossible. Tiemann is big—like way taller than David—and has a large frame. His tattooed fingers are curled around the bars above the door opening, and he sort of hangs there, body slack and head resting on one bent arm.

"About time," he says, and David looks up briefly at the red-haired inmate before he looks back at the picture of his siblings again. He had been hesitating to hang it up for a couple of weeks now, in case Cook returned, but it's been almost a month since Cook got thrown in dissociation. David has kind of given up hoping that he will see the other man again, even if the others keep on telling him that it's just a matter of time before Cook will be back with them.

"Have you heard –"

"No," interrupts Tiemann, answering the question before David has even asked it. Possibly because it's the same question that he asks every day, but still. It annoys him a bit that he doesn't even get a chance to finish speaking. However, Tiemann is not someone you complain about, at least not if you prefer to, like, actually live.

David glances at his hands, knuckles bruised and aching whenever he tries to flex them, but it's nothing compared to the bruise he has on the side of his face. He's embarrassed about it, not because he managed to get himself hurt, but because he had managed to break down in front of like every single inmate in here, which had prompted Tiemann to punish him right in the middle of the cafeteria. A backhand blow against his face had shut him up, and thankfully it had only been one. Still, this has made David a bit more wary of Tiemann than he was before.

Tiemann steps into the cell, momentarily making the cell darker as he steps in front of the light that comes from the hall. David looks up, eyes wide and wary.

"It suits you," Tiemann says, voice low and rough as he reaches out to run his fingers over the bruise. David shivers, trying not to move away from the touch. Tiemann cups his cheek, gently carding his fingers through David's dark hair with his other hand, and David can't help but close his eyes.

"Too bad Cook will return, because I could definitely get used to this," Tiemann confesses and David's eyes fly open. They lock eyes, David's hazel ones catching Tiemann's piercing blue eyes. The other inmate smirks, "Relax _pet_. Cook will be back soon."

David does relax a bit, though he doesn't close his eyes again. Tiemann's fingers continue to run through his hair, occasionally letting the nails scrape against his scalp. It doesn't hurt, in fact, it's rather pleasant and it makes David's head tingle with anticipation. When the red-haired inmate does something like this, gets all affectionate, then it usually means that he wants something. David looks down, and proceeds to blush, because correctly enough, Tiemann definitely wants something.

"Want me to hang a sheet?" Tiemann offers, and David nods. He's gotten used to no privacy in here, but still, he finds it embarrassing when Tiemann forces him to his knees. Heck, he even found it embarrassing when it was Cook who did it, and they were kind of more than just… well, whatever it is that Tiemann and he are to each other.

Tiemann wastes no time in hanging the sheet, and David glances at the small opening that still allows the inmates to look in. However, he doesn't mention it and instead drops to his knees obediently like the prison punk that he has become. His throat hurts already from last time he did it, but he appreciates the fact that it never gets any more intimate that this. Tiemann had promised him on the first night in the cell that he would never demand anything else but hand- and blowjobs, and so far, the other inmate has kept his word.

"That's it," grunts Tiemann as he pries David's lips apart and then pushes in. The head is large, and David's eyes water slightly. Not because he's scared, because he has sort of gotten past that point when it comes to blowjobs, but rather because Tiemann is so big that it's difficult to breathe properly. "Fuck," grunts Tiemann, and snaps his hips, hands grabbing the sides of David's face to keep him still.

David places his hands on the other inmate's hips and pushes away, taking a deep breath before spitting into his left hand. Then he opens his mouth again, swallowing as much as he can and uses his left hand to stimulate what he can't. It takes a couple of minutes, and he knows that Tiemann is close when the other man twists his fingers around David's dark strands of hair and pulls harshly, forcing him closer.

He gags, trying desperately to breathe and then sighs as the tattooed man lets go of his hair and pushes him back on his heels. The spurts of semen land on his tongue, and David keeps it in his mouth for a few seconds before getting up and walking over to the small sink to spit it out. Tiemann groans and sits down on the bed, pants still around his ankles. David looks over his shoulder before leaning down to take a few gulps of the water to clean his mouth.

"Fuck," Tiemann wheezes, and though David shouldn't, he still feels a burst of pride for making someone like Tiemann react like that.

"Why, um," he starts to say, and then stops, because honestly, he isn't exactly sure how to formulate the question properly.

"Yes?"

"I mean, why haven't you chosen a, um, you know, um, someone like me?" he finally says, leaning against the wall next to the sink. His knees are aching, but right now he prefers to keep some distances from his cellmate, even if it means that he has to stand up.

"None of your business," Tiemann sneers, and reaches down to pull his pants up. David watches and blushes a darker shade of red than before when he realizes that Tiemann totally saw him looking. Tiemann merely raises an eyebrow, his expression otherwise unreadable.

"I just mean because you're, um," he tries, but Tiemann looks sharply at him, and David swallows his last words.

"I'm what?" the other man asks, getting up from the bed.

"Um, you're nice and…"

"I'm not nice, Archuleta. I'm a murderer and I like to hurt people. In fact, if you didn't belong to Cook I'd make sure that your face was covered in bruises all the fucking goddamn time." Tiemann breathes harshly, his face getting red as he towers over David who presses himself as close to the wall as possible.

"No," David says, kind of stubbornly, because he feels like he has to make a point.

Tiemann slams his hand against the wall, making David jump like a scared animal. "Are you fucking calling me a liar?" It's said in a lower whisper, voice dangerous and full of promises of pain.

"Y-yes," he stammers, paling slightly. "You're looking after me, even though you totally don't have to. And um, you treat me okay and even though you won't admit it, you worry about people. Like Andy Skib and Kris and Cook and even me, I think."

"That doesn't make me a nice person," Tiemann says, voice just as low as before though no longer quite as menacing, and David swears he can hear a bit of pain behind the words.

"In here," he says, and smiles awkwardly, "in here that kind of makes you a really nice person, in case you hadn't noticed."

Tiemann laughs at that, a hoarse hollow laugh that escapes his thin lips, though the amusement doesn't reach the other inmate's eyes. David swallows, and nods to emphasize his point.

Tiemann steps back and rips the sheet furiously away from the bar and throws it on David's bed before storming out of the cell without looking back. David forgets momentarily how to breathe, and it's not until Kris waves a hand in front of his face, looking incredibly worried, that he remembers to inhale.

"David?" Kris asks, eyes searching David's face for any indication of… well, something. David is not sure what Kris is looking for, but he makes himself smile, though it's a bit strained and not as convincing that he had hoped it would be. "I saw Neal walking out, looking angry, so I thought it was best to come check if you were alright."

David understands now what Kris was looking for before, and he waves his hand dismissively in the air, trying to silently tell Kris that Tiemann didn't hurt him. But then he frowns, because maybe, maybe he hurt Tiemann? Not physically, because he could never ever do that as Tiemann is like twice his size and powerful and like strong, but emotionally, because without even thinking about it, he touched a sore spot. Kind of like a bruise, though not visible to the eye. He reaches up to touch the bruise on his own face, wincing even though the worst of the pain is already over. Now it's just a dull ache, and it's only when he touches it that he even remembers that it's there.

~

They are sitting in the TV room – Andy Skib and Kris sharing a chair, David on the floor between Tiemann's spread legs, and three other inmates occupying the couch – when Johns walks over to them. David looks away from the TV, heart in his throat as he waits for Johns to tell them what's going on. Johns nods – a tiny, almost nonexistent nod – and David feels like he can't breathe properly.

"Tomorrow," says Johns, mouth quirking faintly. "Just got the word. Cook will be let out tomorrow," he tells them, and David accidentally lets out a surprised gasp, because honestly, a part of him kind of hadn't expected to ever see Cook again, afraid that the warden would have him locked up forever. It's silly, he knows, because that would be illegal and the warden actually seems pretty fair if not a bit strong headed, but still.

"Get lost," sneers Tiemann, glaring at the three other inmates. David watches as they get up – somewhat reluctantly, if their annoyed mumbles are anything to go by – and leave the room.

"That's good news," says Kris, and David can't help but just stare at Johns, mouth a little agape as he's trying to process the fact that he will see Cook again, tomorrow. _Cook_. He glances worriedly back over his shoulder at Tiemann who has leaned forward in his seat, fingers now running through David's hair almost possessively. "Right, David?" asks Kris, when David still hasn't said anything.

"Um," he utters, suddenly unsure if it even is a good thing. He can't count the number of times he's wished for Cook to come back – and he wants Cook, not Tiemann – but Tiemann's behavior seems irrational and it pains him to leave the tattooed inmate without anyone. He knows that Tiemann would not be alone – because they will all still be there, and most of them will be here still for a year at least – but not being alone does not equal not being lonely, which is an entirely different thing and a horrible feeling.

Tiemann's fingers leave his hair and trail down his neck, softly touching David's skin. Then a big, strong hand squeezes his shoulder in a reassuring way, and he can't help but smile.

"It's _brilliant_ news," he finally stammers out, and he sees Kris exhale in relief, almost as if he had anticipated David to say something else.

"Good," says Tiemann, and with a final pat on David's head, gets up from the chair and motions for Johns to follow him to the corner of the room. David tilts his head and looks confused at Andy Skib, but Andy Skib just shrugs as if saying that he has no idea what the guard and inmate are talking about in hushed voices.

"You sure?" they hear Johns say, and Tiemann nods. David gets up from the floor, hands idly brushing the back of his pants from whatever dust and whatnot that he may have been sitting on.

Tiemann looks pointedly at him and raises his hand, giving David the universal stop sign. David's arms cross over his chest, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he waits for the red-haired inmate to return.

"It's settled," says Tiemann when he walks back to the seating area of the room, looking at David for a couple of seconds before sitting back down in the chair from before.

"What is?" asks David, biting into his bottom lip nervously, quickly darting a look at Johns who shrugs.

"Johns will request for me to transfer out of the cell and move me in with Andy so that you and Cook can share." Tiemann sounds so indifferent about it, as if it doesn't bother him to leave the cell that he has been calling home for the last couple of years. His heart quite possibly jumps at the thought of sharing with Cook, nervous and excited at the same time. But one look at Tiemann makes all the excitement go away.

"No," he blurts, which earns him a raised eyebrow from his protector. "I don't want to chase you out of your own cell… I mean, it's _your_ cell and I should be the one to move. I'll move back to my old cell, Cook will understand."

"You'll fucking do as you're told, _punk_ ," snarls Tiemann, eyes turning considerably darker as he glares angrily at David.

"But –" he starts to say, however, he is quickly interrupted by Tiemann.

"Until Cook returns, you belong to me and you'll fucking do as you're told or Cook will get back to a punk covered in fucking huge bruises all over, you got that?"

He bows his head, his shoulders hunching over as he tries to fight the desire to take a step back. He manages to stand still, but he can't stop from flinching when he sees Tiemann raise a hand out of the corner of his eye.

"Neal," says Andy Skib, steeping forward, finally voicing his thoughts on all of this. "I think it's admirable of you to offer to move – and Cook would probably be pleased to share a cell with –"Andy Skib look at him, eyes traveling up his body, "– with David here, but do you really think it's wise to move cells? It would cause an awful lot of attention from the other inmates, don't you think? And we don't really need that."

Andy Skib narrows his eyes, as if silently telling Tiemann something, and David looks at Kris for some kind of guidance as to what he's missing. Kris, however, looks just as confused, maybe even more than David feels. So whatever Andy Skib is talking about, Kris clearly hasn't been let in on the secret. The two punks share a confused look, before returning their attention to their protectors.

David has always felt weird about calling Tiemann – or Cook for that matter – his protector, but in here, that's kind of their roles. It's not the official prison term for it though, or so he has learned during his time in here. There are other terms for what they are, terms that make David cringe just thinking about them. The mere thought of referring to Cook as his 'daddy' makes him feel a bit sick, so he sticks to his own version of the term.

"Yes or no?" asks Johns, leaning against the doorframe, hands buried deep in his pockets as he looks disinterestedly at them. "I need to know if I have to fill out the request form. Fuck it; it's not even sure that the request will go through, so maybe you guys are worrying for nothing."

"Yes," says Tiemann the same time that Andy Skib says, "No."

"My cell, my decision," sneers Tiemann, starting to get red in the face.

"Yeah, well, you're talking about moving into my cell, so that also makes it my decision."

"Cook will want to–"

"Cook will want whatever is best for all of us, you know that," finishes Andy Skib, voice low and soft.

"David, what do _you_ want?" asks Johns, voice loud and clear, interrupting the two friends. They all look at him, and David swallows nervously, not sure what the correct answer should be. He chances a glance at Tiemann and quickly averts his eyes at the look he gets – Tiemann looks quite positively murderous, almost as if he's daring David to go against him.

"Um," he says, ever so eloquently, but doesn't offer more to the conversation. He knows that regardless of what they might ask him, what he says has little value to whatever the outcome will be. Ultimately, Tiemann is the one who has to make the decision. He knows it and he's fairly sure that Kris and even Andy Skib know it. That's just the way it is, and a small part of him is glad that it _is_ exactly that way. Less chance of choosing the wrong thing and being held responsible, he thinks, and shrugs.

"We'll do as I say. Make it happen, Johns," voices Tiemann, glaring at all them – eyes searching each of their faces one at a time, almost as if he's daring one of them to say something. None of them do, and David even sees Andy Skib look away.

"Alright, if you say so mate," drawls Johns, words coated thick and heavy with his Australian accent, "but like I said before, not even sure the request will go through. Guess it depends on the warden."

David sits down on the couch, back straightened and hands resting on his knees. His head though, is bowed, eyes lowered to the floor and curiously observing his sneakers as though they hold great knowledge. They used to be this brilliant white color, like so white that it almost hurt the eyes to look at them, but now… now the color is just dull, spots of dirt all over them. Dirty, he thinks, and sighs.

~

It is late afternoon and most of the inmates' are outside in the yard, enjoying the fresh air before dinner. David though – along with Tiemann – is waiting in the cell. He glances around, shivering faintly despite the fact that he is not cold. Tiemann glances at him every now and then, and the curious, if not slightly distant look, makes him want to just crawl into a hole and hide there forever.

It's weird, because he kind of thought they had managed to get along these last couple of long weeks, but now that Cook's return is just around the corner, Tiemann seems quite possibly even more resentful towards David than ever.

He rubs his palms nervously against his pants, his hands all sweaty against the fabric. Cook will come back any minute now and he doesn't quite know how he is supposed to respond to the older inmate when they do see each other again. He loves Cook, no doubt about that, but a small part of him is afraid that Cook hates him for everything that has happened. If it hadn't been for David, the thing with Colton and Hernandez would never have happened, and Cook would never have had to save him by turning the two other inmates into cripples and thus prolonging his sentence (if Johns' information is anything to go by).

"Incoming," says Tiemann, and steps out of the cell – the cell that now belongs to David and Cook, Tiemann's stuff already moved into David's old cell that he used to share with Andy Skib. "You be a good punk now and fucking make him happy, got it?" scoffs Tiemann with a quick glance over his shoulder at David.

"Yes," he says. It bothers him that Tiemann still calls him a punk – because he absolutely loathes the term and everything it stands for – but he knows there is nothing he can do about it. "Promise," he whispers, more to himself than Tiemann who is no longer paying attention to him but rather welcoming Cook back to the cellblock.

"Fuck man, I've missed you," says Cook, grinning widely. David stares from the shadows of the cell as the two inmates hug and clap each other on the back, his heart skipping a beat when he hears Cook's voice.

"Welcome back to the H," says Tiemann, voice so different than before. The tattooed inmate sounds, if not cheerful, then content to have his friend back.

"It's good to be home," says Cook, and David steps out of the shadows and lingers at the opening of the cell, slender fingers curled around one of the steel bars, eyes darting curiously from one inmate to the other. Cook looks over Tiemann shoulder and sees him, and David smiles apprehensively, ignoring the way that something flutters about in chest.

"And what a lovely homecoming gift," says Cook, voice low and almost foreign to David's ears. A shiver runs down his spine, and he can't help but shudder with _want_. He hadn't anticipated that to happen, but judging from the way Cook looks at him; eyes almost devouring him whole, he thinks Cook is pleased with his reaction.

"And," interrupts Tiemann quickly, breaking the spell and forcing Cook to look away from David, "it's been arranged that you'll share cell from now on with the boy."

Cook's head turns so fast that David can almost hear the snap of the neck. David's eyes follow Cook's gaze and he sees Johns standing not that far away, grinning smugly.

"Yeah?" asks Cook, sounding like he can't believe it.

"But of course," says Johns, sounding pleased with himself. David knows that the request almost didn't go through, but apparently Johns had managed to fix that somehow.

"Fuck," breathes Cook, and looks back at David. David blushes under the eyes of his boyfriend.

"And what about you?" asks Cook, the question directed at Tiemann though he remains looking at David, mouth quirking noticeably, Cook's mind no doubt filled with dirty ideas. David bows his head, a hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck shyly.

"I'm sharing with Andy now."

"Yeah?" asks Cook, and finally looks at Tiemann. "And you are sure that's okay with you? I mean, I don't want to run you out of your own cell."

"Do you see me running?" asks Tiemann, and David doesn't have to see Tiemann's face to know that one eyebrow is without doubt raised. "I offered to do this."

"Thanks man," says Cook, and reaches up to touch the back of the red-haired inmate's neck, fingers curling around the strands of hair affectionately before giving a gentle tug. "I mean it, thank you."

"Now go be with your boy. I'll be out in the yard with Andy and Kris. See you at dinner."

Then it's just the two of them; David standing inside the cell, Cook standing just outside it.

"Hi," he whispers, wincing at his greeting. It sounds so juvenile, and he wishes he could have said something cool or maybe even flirty. Cook would have appreciated a flirty greeting. Except, um, he totally isn't good at flirting.

Cook takes a step closer, arms grabbing onto the bars above the opening as he just looks at David, a smirk gracing his lips. They are standing so close now that David can feel Cook's breath on his face, warm and gentle against his skin as Cook inhales and exhales. David looks at Cook's lips, his tongue darting out to wet his lips that have suddenly gone dry. Cook groans, and David decides to be brave and takes a step towards his boyfriend until they are standing chest against chest, not even an inch of space between them.

"I've missed you," he whispers, a hand reaching out to touch Cook's cheek, the beard feeling scratchy and itchy against his palm. He moves his hand, nails scraping against the pale skin as he trails his fingers down along the neck, silently basking in the heat radiating from his boyfriend.

Cook's groan turns deeper, quieter, and David's breath quickens. They are still standing out in the open, visible to all inmates who might look their way. He blushes, eyes quickly looking to see if anyone is looking at them, but Cook's hand reaches up to grab his chin, forcing David to only look at him. David looks at Cook, his eyes wide and innocent. Then the rough, calloused hand lets go of his chin and moves down his neck, rubbing against his skin right where the mark used to be. The mark, which is long gone by now, but which David can still feel deep within his soul.

Cook's mark.

"First," whispers Cook, smirking as he leans down to catch David's earlobe between his teeth, tugging lightly at the flesh. "First I'm going to fuck you, but then, after, I'll leave my mark all over your body so everyone can see who you belong to."

"Gosh," he murmurs, blushing notably as his back arches and his chest presses against Cook's arm.

"Hang a sheet, pet, if you don't want anyone to see," instructs Cook, smirking as he detangles himself from David. David nods and quickly pulls down the sheet from the top bunk – from Cook's bed, or David's, depending on which of the bunks Cook wants now that he's back – and quickly hangs it. He's not as good or fast as Cook, but he tries his best and manages to get it to stay stuck.

"So gorgeous," whispers Cook, coming up to stand behind him, nose nuzzling against his neck, long, pale arms wrapping around his chest. "You have no idea how many times I've jerked off to the memory of you while I was in dissociation. _Fuck_. Get on your knees and suck me," orders Cook, and David waits until the hold on his chest loosens so he can turn.

He can't help but lean forward and place a small kiss on the corner of Cook's mouth. It's just a small, chaste kiss, but it makes Cook pant harshly against him, chest heaving fast as he breathes. "David," mumbles Cook, and presses against David's shoulder with his palms, slowly but surely forcing David down until his knees hit the floor.

David pulls the pants down as Cook raises the shirt up under the pits of his arms, displaying his stomach. David watches as Cook's penis juts and raises until it is laying flat against Cook's pale belly, taut and erect, the head slightly red and already weeping. With a final glance at Cook – who in response nods to urge him forward – David leans closer and with the guidance of his hand bring the penis to his open mouth.

He has still not gotten used to giving blowjobs, and the corner of his eyes already turn a bit wet from unshed tears as he takes in the penis further, his lips closing around the head. Usually Cook thrusts and forces himself further in than David can manage, but this time it's different – perhaps because they have been apart for so many weeks, he thinks – because this time, Cook just gently tugs at David's hair, fingers running through the dark short strands over and over as he allows David to decide the pace. It's both exhilarating and confusing at the same time.

Cook likes to be in control – likes to make David feel him, he once told David – but this time it's like David is the one in charge. David sucks harder, lips curling around the heated flesh, tongue pressing against the vein on the underside of the penis. He wants to please Cook, wants Cook to be this gentle every time – and he is sure, that if he just manages to show Cook that he can be good without pressure or force, then this will not be a onetime thing.

Cook's hips shove a bit, and just as David thinks that this is over and Cook will be back in charge, gentle fingers run through his hair, tips of slender digits massaging his scalp almost apologetically. He relaxes his jaw and uses his free hand to hold Cook's hips in place. That way he'll be able to sense it the next time Cook reflexively presses forward again.

"David," murmurs Cook from above him, and David looks up through his eyelashes, watching in amazement as Cook returns the stare, eyes dark and filled with desire. He pops the penis out of his mouth and licks a long stripe up the underside of the penis, making sure to keep the eye contact. Cook groans, voice low and with an almost animalistic edge to it, and David blushes deeply as he feels the front of his own pants tightening somewhat.

"I want to fuck you," hisses Cook, and David moves his hand up and down the penis as he nods, fist clenching around Cook a couple of times, nostrils flaring as his mind catches up with the situation. They have been together before, though it was only a couple of times, and right now it seems like ages ago.

"Um," he says, and reaches up to twist his fingers around Cook's shirt to hoist himself up from the floor. Because Cook had allowed him some control before, David decides to just follow his gut instincts and do as he wants, which is kissing Cook. Cook has amazingly talented lips, and the velvet tongue pressing against David's own tongue feels so good, gosh.

"Bed," whispers Cook, and David nods twice, his heart in his throat. Normally Cook guides him to lie on his stomach, but this time David wants to be able to _see_ Cook, so he steps back until the back of his head touches the top bunk and his calves rests against the lower bunk. And then he sits down, his hand still twisted around the fabric of Cook's shirt, moving back as he brings Cook down on top of him.

"No, like this," he says, though it comes out as desperate plea, when Cook tries to make him turn. Cook looks at him for the longest time, just watching David until David finally has to turn his head away, the blush returning to his cheeks. Then Cook grabs his chin and turns his head, smiling softly before leaning down to press their lips together in a tender kiss and David smiles against the lips, his arms going around Cook's neck to hold on tight (and never let go again).

~

Several inmates come over to the table at dinner, greeting Cook and giving him the high-five. David doesn't entirely understand why they do it, but he can't help but smile as Cook grins broadly and leans down to nuzzle against the mark on David's neck every five minutes or so. He feels quite positively giddy, and this time, when something seems to flutter about in his chest, he doesn't ignore it, just smiles wider.

Cook tickles his side, and David squirms, laughing as he tries to move away from Cook's fingers that are pressing against his side. It's all so surreal, he thinks, as he looks at the inmates sitting at the table. When he first got here, he thought he would never be happy again, but here he is, smiling and laughing and practically enjoying himself. Kris smiles at him, and David returns the smile. Even Andy Skib gives him a smile – true, it's just a small and kind of restrained smile – but David will take what he can get. Tiemann, however, doesn't smile. David's own smile fades a bit, thoughts all tangled up in his mind. Part of him wants to reach out to the tattooed inmate, squeeze the big hand and touch the letters that are written on the knuckles, but he doesn't. Instead, he leans closer to Cook when the other inmate throws his arm around David's shoulder, drawing him closer until David is practically sitting in Cook's lap.

David doesn't want to be Tiemann's punk, doesn't love the older inmate, but he feels so bad for him that he's now all alone again. He toys with the idea of suggesting to Cook that they should find someone that Tiemann can take care of, but quickly dismisses the thought, because David is sure that if Tiemann really wanted someone, he'd find someone himself. In fact, David is pretty sure that Tiemann wouldn't even have to look long, because he fully knows that the other inmate is quite a catch. Big and strong and people totally respect him in here, which for the likes of David, means protection. It's the same with Cook.

"Fuck I'm tired," says Tiemann, squeezing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. David watches as Cook's eyes narrow, clearly not buying it. Tiemann looks at Cook, mouth quirking as if he knows that he's just been caught in a lie. "See you back in the cell… wait, not anymore. Andy, I'll see you later, Cook, I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

Tiemann is up and gone before anyone gets a chance to bid him goodnight. David follows the inmate out of the cafeteria with his eyes until he can no longer see Tiemann, then he glances back at Cook, hand reaching out to touch Cook's thigh.

"Andy, you better go talk with him," orders Cook, leaving no room discussion as his fingers curl around David's hand, squeezing it softly before moving it. David gulps, a bit sad and maybe also confused, and watches as Andy Skib rises from the table and leaves.

"So, what do you want to do now?" asks Cook, looking briefly at David before settling his eyes on Kris who just shrugs and looks at David as if he has no idea what he's supposed to suggest. David knows how he feels, because honestly, there are not that many things to do in here. There's the TV room, the shower room, the yard and then the library – though the library is only open like two hours a day, which isn't all that much considering that there is absolutely nothing to do in here.

"We could… um," offers David, but ends up having to draw a blank.

"Yeah," says Cook, and clears his throat, looking David up and down, practically devouring him with his eyes. David blushes and looks away, embarrassed and slightly excited.

"We could play cards?" says Kris finally. "I'm fairly sure that my cellie has a deck of cards somewhere. I'm sure we can borrow it."

David has never been good at card games, but Cook's mood seems to brighten considerably, so he just smiles and nods.

They leave the cafeteria, but they have barely made it out of the cell when they see Andy Skib standing not that far away, arms crossed over his chest, hair falling into his eyes, as he seems to glower hatefully at everyone who looks his way. Cook looks solemnly at David for a few seconds, like he's trying to communicate something important through the shared look, but David just smiles confused, not entirely sure what the look is supposed to be. They walk over to Andy Skib, Kris walking a bit in front of David and Cook.

"What's up?" asks Cook, sounding tired and not at all in the mood for any kind of problems. David doesn't blame him. Cook only just got out this morning, and there have already been several things for him to do – such as figure out what to do with Tiemann as well as reconnecting with David, the latter, which makes David blush just thinking about it. He unconsciously touches the mark Cook left on his neck, and then sees Cook notice, who grins proudly for all of two seconds when Andy Skib starts talking, interrupting their moment.

"We need to talk."

"Fine," mutters Cook, running fingers through his hair, exasperatedly before returning his gaze to David. "You go back to Kris' cell and play cards. We'll be there soon."

Kris nods and starts to walk away, but David can't help but stare at the two inmates, desperate to know what's going on. Cook reaches out and grasps the back of his neck, making David bow his head in the process. Strong fingers squeezes softly, making David's knees turn a bit weak. There is something about Cook's possessive grip that makes David blush with shame and desire at the same time, and he can't decide which feeling is the worst.

In here, he shouldn't be ashamed anymore, because this is daily life and it's not just him who has someone to look after them. But still, the fact that he desires it makes something coil in the pit of his stomach, anxious for his mother's reaction if she should ever find out what exactly this relationship is about – and even that there is a relationship. He still hasn't told her about Cook, has in fact not seen her in months, only spoken on the phone with her. She was supposed to have visited him two weeks ago, but he had told her not to come, mind still focused and worried about Cook as well as trying to recover from his injuries after the attack.

Kris appears next to him, slender fingers grabbing his wrist and forcing him to move. "They'll be back soon, I'm sure. They just need to talk about something," he says, as they walk towards Kris' cell.

"Um, oh. Talk about what?" he asks, looking curiously at Kris. "Do you, um, know what it is?"

"No. Andy would have told me if it concerned me, or if I needed to know it," says Kris, voice quiet, sounding a bit bitter. David can understand that. Kris and Andy have been together for a while now, and if Kris doesn't even know what's going on, he's sure that he will never get Cook to tell him either.

~

Two weeks later, David is sitting on his bed, feet dangling over the edge as he tried to finish the letter for him mom and siblings, when Cook enters the cell, looking far too grave (or at least more so than he usually does). Archie puts down the paper and pen next to him on the bed and looks at Cook. Before he gets a chance to ask what's wrong, Cook tugs at his pants, bringing David closer to the edge until Cook is standing between the V of his legs, hands running up and down his legs, softly playing with the fabric of his pants.

"You're eligible for parole in a few months, right?" asks Cook, finally, completely surprising David who hadn't expected anything like that to be on Cook's mind.

"Gosh, um," he tries to count the months, feeling slightly disoriented and uncertain as to what day it even is right now. Being locked up really messes with your sense of time. "I think it's, um, seven? Or eight months?" He can't decide if he should be glad that he only needs to be in here a little more than half a year, or sad that he still has that long to go before he can get out of here again.

"That's good," says Cook, sounding absentmindedly, looking away from David to glance out of the bars at the cells across the hall. David watches Cook for a couple of long seconds before following his gaze to see what's so important out there that he's stop talking.

"Cook," he whispers, leaning forward to touching Cook's cheek, ignoring the way the short beard prickles against his palm in this sort of tingly way that makes him want to withdraw his hand and scratch the itch. "Look at me," he tries, but Cook just shakes his head and steps back until he's leaning against the wall – entirely out of David's reach.

David breathes slowly, eyes widening and heart in his throat. He tries to swallow. "Um," he utters, confused and flustered. David jumps down from the bed, the unfinished letter to his mom completely forgotten as he walks over to Cook, one hand reaching warily out to touch Cook's shoulder.

Cook finally looks at him, eyes dark and unkind. "I won't be eligible for parole for another year and a half," he admits. "The warden just told me that due to the fight with the two losers, they have decided to add another six months until I'll be qualified for parole. Another fight and they will take away the possibility entirely, which means I have two more years to go before I get out of this hellhole."

"Oh," he says, not sure what else to say. He understands why Cook is acting that way now. Understands if Cook doesn't want anything to do with him anymore, as it is definitely (well, at least indirectly) his fault that Cook is even in this situation in the first place.

Cook glances at him, head tilted to the side as he watches David intently. "Stop it," says Cook hotly, voice dark and angry.

"Wh—what?" he asks, momentarily confused by Cook's reaction. His hands slips down Cook's arm until it hangs loosely against his side, fingers toying nervously with the edge of his shirt, twisting the fabric until it hurts.

"Stop fucking blaming yourself, David. It's not your fault. I'm glad I did it, glad that I fucking showed Hernandez and Colton that they get punished when they try to touch my property–"

David shivers at the words, feeling something clench inside his chest, making it difficult to breathe properly.

"–and I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat if I had to."

"Um," he utters, slightly dazed and maybe also a bit pleased. He blushes and bows his head, secretly loving the way that Cook feels so strongly about him, even though the fact that being called property should bother him way more than it actually does.

"I've been in my share of fights in here, David," continues Cook, pushing away from the wall and walking closer until he has David backed up against the bars. He shivers again, the cold metal digging uncomfortably into his shoulders, making him feel all cold and hot at the same time. "I've been in dissociation more times than I can count on my two hands."

"Oh my heck," he blurts out before he can help himself.

Cook chuckles and leans down until their foreheads touch. It makes David dizzy to try to maintain eye contact, so he lowers his gaze to Cook's lips instead. "Does it turn you on?" teases Cook, "Does it turn you on that I'm a _bad_ boy?" He drawls out the word 'bad', and David can't help but smile, because it kind of just seems a bit, um, weird and, yeah maybe he's a bit turned on.

"No," he says, smiling. Cook lifts an eyebrow, amused.

"You sure about that?" asks the other inmate, and leans down to kiss the crook of David's neck. It tickles. He tries to squirm away, but Cook grabs his arms and holds him in place.

"Cook," he breathes, leaning his head back against the bars and closes his eyes.

"I love marking you," whispers Cook heatedly against his neck, his warm breath dancing over David's skin, making him feel alive and on fire. "Maybe we should get you a tattoo. A permanent mark so that even when you're outside and I'm in here, people will know that you belong to me."

David whimpers and tilts his head to give Cook more access to his neck. The thought of being branded like that scares him and turns him on at the same time. He absolutely hates needles and he knows that tattoos are just not for him. Sure, they look good on Cook and Tiemann, but they are tough and cool and, well, um. Still, the mere thought of belonging to Cook forever and for people to see that he belongs to Cook makes something twist and turn in his something; makes him breathe faster and _want_. Oh, how he wants. But he knows it will never work on him.

His mom may know a bit about Cook now, and though he has never directly told her who Cook is or how he feels about the other inmate, he's sure that his mom has an idea. The looks she gives him whenever he accidentally mentions Cook, the slight frown and wet eyes that she always quickly rubs and claims that she has gotten mascara in them or an eyelash.

"Imagine," murmurs Cook, kissing his jaw and biting the bone teasingly, leaving marks of saliva on David's skin. "Right here on your neck, my initials. _DC_ for everyone to see. Fuck, I'd love to kiss that tattoo, kiss your neck over and over and over…"

The words trail off, and David whimpers pathetically as Cook shoves a hand down his pants. Everyone who walks by can see them; everyone will _know_ what they are up to. He blushes and tries to move away, suddenly feeling way too conscious. "Cook," he moans, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his head accidentally banging into the bars behind him. He winces in pain, and tries to touch the tender spot, but his hands are pushed away by Cook's larger hand that quickly withdrawals from David's pants – calloused, big and warm hands – and cradles the back of his head caringly.

"You okay, pet?" asks Cook, making David bow his head so he can check for blood. "Just a small bump, nothing serious. You should be more careful," berates Cook, giving David a stern look for all but two seconds before the corner of the mouth quirks and a hint of a smile appears on Cook's full lips.

"I don't want to wait two whole years," says David suddenly. "You can't get into more fights, Cook. I want you to get your parole so that, um. You know. I want you to, _gosh_. I want to be with you out there as well." He stumbles over the words, not entirely sure how to say what he means. Or even what he means. He's so confused right now. And his head kind of hurts a bit.

"I know," is all Cook says, before kissing David on the forehead.

~

David lies awake most of the night, pondering his own words as well as Cook's. He's slightly – okay, _really_ startled by his own declaration. If they both make it out of here in one piece, would he then be willing to continue this, um, well, relationship that he has with Cook? David pushes the covers aside and sits up, feeling a bit sickish. He leans against the wall, shivering as the coldness of the wall seeps right through his shirt. Still, he just sits there, listening to Cook snoring from the bunk underneath him.

In here, their relationship is natural. There's a lot of guys, um, like him, who have someone – _gosh_ , who have a Cook of their own, and in here it's kind of natural? At least, the whole sex thing is. David blushes at the mere thought of sex. He's been having regular sex for months now, but just talking or even thinking about it can make him blush and go all silly. Tiemann calls it his virgin face, which, um, isn't technically possible as he's far from a virgin, really. He had tried to tell Cook this the other day, but the other inmate had just smirked and ruffled his hair and said something about him still being all virgin in his mindset. Which, yeah, that's probably true? David doesn't really know.

"David," mumbles Cook, and David holds his breath as he tries to figure out if Cook is saying his name in his sleep or if he's actually awake. Before he can decide, Cook answers for him, "Get down here." Cook's voice is tinged with sleep, and when David jumps down from his bed and looks at him, Cook's eyes are closed. Maybe he had heard wrong?

"Come on," says Cook, opening an eye to look at him, lifting the corner of his cover for David to slide under. David looks out through the bars, but it's so dark that he can't even see the cells on the other side of the room. He briefly wonders what time it is, when Cook's hand lets go of the covers and instead reaches out, warm fingers curling around his wrist, tugging him down until his knee hits the bed. " _David_." Cook sounds tired.

David crawls under the covers, breathing deeply as Cook's arms wrap around his body, pulling him close until his back is spooned against Cook's chest and leg and – _oh_. David blushes, his body going stiff, as he doesn't know what to do. Part of him thinks – and wants – to turn around and touch Cook, but the other part of him is afraid of wanting exactly that.

"Just sleep," whispers Cook against his ear, warm breath ghosting over his skin and making him shiver. David exhales slowly, the air leaving his lungs as he tries to relax and let sleep come to him.

He has no idea how long he has been lying there, Cook spooned against him, when something rattles at the bars. His sight is blurry and he's so tired, his eyes refusing to open at first.

"Archuleta, get back up in your own bunk." It's Yeager. David opens his eyes, surprised.

Cook mumbles something incomprehensive and tightens his hold around David's middle. David squirms, trying to get free of Cook's arms, but to no avail.

"Fuck off, Yeager," says Cook, suddenly awake and leaning over David to get a better view of the guard. David tries to make himself as small as possible.

"Language, Cook, or you'll be sent back to dissociation. And you don't want that, do you? Isn't there something about the next time you get sent there you'll lose your chance of parole?" Yeager smirks, clearly amused and delighted by this. David quickly grips Cook's arms, forcing the other inmate to lie still and not say anything. They stay like that for five seconds or so, before David squirms out of Cook's hold and climbs up on his own bunk.

"Good," says Yeager, winking at David before continuing on his rounds.

"I'm fucking going to kill him," hisses Cook from the bed under David. "I swear, first chance I get I'll wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze until he turns fucking blue."

Cook is moving about in the cell now, hands clenching and eyes wild. It scares David to see him like this, Cook this way before, which is kind of stupid because he's seen Cook this way before. He _knows_ what Cook is capable of, knows what the prison has made Cook into.

"Cook," he says, and scoots back until his back touches the cold, grey wall.

Cook stops walking and looks at him, eyes softening slowly. David is breathing rapidly now, um, maybe he's even hyperventilating? He's not sure. All he knows is that Cook scares him and he can't breathe properly.

"Pet?" asks Cook, a hand reaching out to touch his cheek. He forces himself to sit still, to not move even though his instinct tells him to get away from the hand. Which is ridiculous, because this is Cook and he trusts Cook and he loves him and um, oh.

"David," whispers Cook, sounding slightly hurt. David swallows and relaxes, his head leaning against the calloused palm.

"Sorry, it's just, um…" the words trail off. He has no idea what to tell Cook.

"Fuck it. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ," swears Cook, wincing. "I scared you."

"I just…"

"I'm sorry," interrupts Cook, leaving David stunned and caught off guard. Sure, Cook has apologized before, but he has never sounded so remorseful before like he does now.

"I just," tries David again, "I just don't want anything to happen to you. We talked about this, like, _gosh_ , a couple of hours ago, and you said you wanted parole and now you're planning on how to kill Yeager, who, um, by the way, is totally a guard. If you do anything, they will take you away and you'll never get out of here. Like, um, ever."

Cook smiles, which completely throws David off the track. Cook shouldn't be smiling! Well, David isn't sure what Cook should be doing, but he just hadn't expected him to smile.

"I love you," whispers Cook, his hand moving behind David's head and pulls until David's head is mere inches from Cook's face.

"I love you too," he says, relieved over how easy it was for him to say that, despite what had just happened. Cook smiles, and David stares, kind of mesmerized by Cook's lips, when Cook leans forward and presses their lips together.

"When we get out of here – and we will _both_ get out of here – I'm going to get a job, and then, we'll buy a house and get a dog."

"Gosh," whispers David, and blushes.

~

"It's time," says Tiemann, sitting down next to Cook. They are sitting outside, as the weather is for once agreeable now that it has stopped raining all the time. Cook's words, not David's.

David looks confused at Tiemann, then at Cook and finally at Andy Skib who rises from the bench and moves to stand behind Kris. Kris lifts a hand, rubbing the bridge of his nose, almost as if he has dreaded this moment. David turns his attention back to Cook, head tilting slightly to the side as he tries to figure out what the heck is going on. Obviously, he's the only one who has no clue judging from the others expressions to Tiemann's words.

"I'm staying," says Andy Skib finally.

"The fuck you're not," hisses Tiemann, looking around the quad to see if there is anyone close enough to hear what they are talking about. David looks around as well, noticing that most of the other inmates are over at the basketball court, watching the game between two of the groups in here.

"I am. Fuck it Neal. It's a shitty plan and I've decided to stay here – with Kris. I'm not leaving him behind like that," says Andy Skib, voice calm and collected. Tiemann turns slightly red in the face, and David moves closer to Cook just in case.

"We agreed to leave together!" the voice is low, but there's a dangerous edge to it, like Tiemann is five seconds away from exploding.

"Neal," interrupts Cook, and David looks wide-eyed as Cook reaches out to grab Tiemann's clenched fist with his hands. "Just last month, we decided to call it off. Andy's right, it is a shitty plan. We would never get away with it. Besides. I can't leave David either, just like And–"

Cook doesn't get a chance to finish what he's trying to say. David breathes fast, his heart beating away a hundred miles per minute, or so it feels.

"You were going to try to escape?" he asks, mouth falling open.

"Shut it, punk," hisses Tiemann, leaning over the table to point his finger at David. Cook pushes the hand away, getting up from the bench and walking around to the table until he looms over Tiemann.

"Neal," is all Cook says, but David can hear the warning hidden behind the name, the promise of pain if Tiemann should do something rash. Like um, hurt David.

David looks at Kris, a bit, well; he's not entirely sure what the correct word would be. Hurt, maybe, over the fact that Kris apparently knew that the others were planning to escape but didn't mention anything to him. Was he too untrustworthy? He thought he had proven himself pretty loyal a long time ago, but maybe not. He swallows, and looks away, his eyes itching.

"Andy told me a couple of weeks ago, _after_ they had decided not to go through with the plan," Kris tells him, appearing next to David on the bench. David hadn't even heard the other inmate move.

"Um," he says, and looks at Cook whose busy trying to calm Tiemann down again, and then he finally looks at Kris. Kris looks sad, like he regrets not sharing the information with David sooner, but what's done is done and um. David blinks, hand quickly going up to rub his eyes, swiftly removing any of the unshed tears that were starting to cling to his eyelashes.

"Okay," he says, when Kris looks like he's about to apologize again.

"Then I'm fucking leaving alone," practically yells Tiemann, ending the conversation by walking quickly back to the prison, obviously heading for the cells.

"So, were you ever going to tell me that you had planned to leave me? I mean, when exactly did you decide not to go through with this plan – which by the way, um, would never have worked, because yeah. There's like guards all over the place," says David, words leaving his mouth before he can help himself.

"Listen–"

"Point is, we are staying. So let's leave it at that," says Andy Skib courtly, leaving no room for discussion as he gestures for Kris to get up and follow him. Kris looks at David for a couple of seconds before getting up from the bench. David watches as Andy throws an arm around Kris' shoulder, and as they together walk the same way that Tiemann had just disappeared off to, two minutes ago.

"Oh," he says, confounded. He sees Andy Skib shake hands with the Castro guy. He wonders briefly if Andy Skib or Kris has ordered anything through Castro, when Cook settles back down beside him, touching his shoulder and forcing his attention away from the others.

"Before I got thrown in dissociation, we were planning on getting the hell out of here. But my time in the hole made me realize that if I ever went through with that plan – which by the way was incredibly stupid and would probably have been unsuccessful – I would be leaving you behind. I knew you would never come with me, and I understand that. I mean, you only have a couple of months left before you can get parole, which I know you'll get, so I knew you'd never risk it."

Cook stops to breathe, his lips pursing together as if he's trying to figure out what to say next.

"I told Neal," he finally continues, and David can't help but reach out and grab Cook's larger hand, loving the way that his hand fits so well into Cook's, "I told him the moment I got out that I thought the plan was stupid and that I wanted to stay here with you. Andy, apparently, was feeling the same way. He wanted to stay with Kris. Neal got pissed; you remember the week where he didn't talk to any of us?"

Um, yes, David totally remembers. It had been the week before last. Every single day that week, Tiemann would glare and sit at another table. He even nearly got into a fight with some of the other inmates until Johns had showed up and made him go back to his cell. David remembers this week vividly, because although Cook hadn't said what was wrong, he could feel the guilt; had been almost able to smell it as it reeked off him.

He realizes that Cook is still waiting for him to reply or give him some kind of response to let him know that he remembers that week. He settles for a nod, not sure that he completely trusts his voice. And isn't that just ironic. Moments ago he had been sad that they hadn't trusted him enough to let him in on their plans, and now he doesn't even trust his own voice. He smiles weakly, and looks away, blinking.

He knows he's being childish for felling hurt and maybe also betrayed a bit that Cook had planned to leave him, even though the plans were called off a long time ago.

"Fuck it. Say something, pet," says Cook, reaching out to gently run his fingers through David's hair, treating him almost like one would treat a wounded animal.

He feels helpless, weak, and he's definitely embarrassed when his voice breaks slightly as he says, "Why, um, why did you even pick me? Back when I got here. Why did you decide to take care of me when you already knew back then that you were going to try to escape?"

Cook just looks at him for a moment, seemingly trying to pick his words carefully. David can almost see the wheels turning, see how Cook is trying to find the right words.

"Simply put," says Cook, looking at the ground though his hand keeps playing with the strands of David's hair, tips of the fingers teasing as they dance lightly over the skin of his neck, leaving goosebumps in their trails. "I wanted you. Your profile intrigued me, and when I saw you, I knew I needed to make you mine. You were too precious to let go, and the thought of anyone else but me having you made me jealous."

David kind of wants to point out that someone else did get to have him, that Cook _shared_ him with Tiemann – that Tiemann had made use of him when Cook had been gone; gone for protecting and saving him from something far worse than being Tiemann's punk for a couple of weeks. He swallows, suddenly seeing it in a different light.

"I think I knew the moment that I saw you that I never wanted to try to escape. But Neal was so set on doing it, and I suppose I just indulged him, just went along with the talk because I was too much of a coward to stand up to him and too much of a coward to tell him no. In case you haven't noticed, but you don't just exactly say no to him. He's my best friend, and I love him and I don't want to see him being hurt, you know?"

David stays silent, not trusting his voice at this point. He leans his hand against Cook's chest, feels Cook sigh as he wraps his arm around David, holding him close. David just listens to Cook's heartbeat, the rapid thrumming sound pounding in his ear, and he finds it oddly calming.

"So, how were you going to get out?" he asks, moving his head slightly until he can look at Cook's face through his eyelashes.

Cook laughs, and the sound fills David's chest with warmth.

"Honestly?" asks Cook, and David nods, curious. He feels Cook taking a deep breath, "The plan sucked as in, we never really had a true plan. I think we mainly settled on trying to dress up as guards and just walk out of here. We even had Andrew try to come up with a few ideas on the outside, but seriously, my brother has like the wildest imagination ever. He wanted us to dig a hole and climb through windows and it was all just a mess. In fact, it was mainly just lots of ideas to appease Neal's notion of escaping."

David laughs, his eyes closing as Cook pulls him closer to his body. Cook leans down and presses a kiss against his hair. David stops laughing and instead just bathes in the moment, loving the way that he seems to fit against Cook's body, like this is how it's supposed to be.

"We should head back inside. Time is almost up anyway, and I don't want you to catch a cold," whispers Cook, and David lifts his head just enough to push his lips against Cook's.

"Yeah," he says, untangling himself from Cook's embrace and stands up. Cook remains sitting for a couple of seconds, before standing up as well, momentarily towering over David in a way that makes him feels so small, yet oddly enough also safe.

"Shower?" asks Cook, eyes glimpsing with amusement. "I'll wash your back if you wash mine."

David smiles, cheeks flushing with embarrassment from the sexual innuendo, which is not as much an innuendo as it is a proposition – a lingering promise to take care of him, for them to take care of each other.

~

"Got a couple of new faces today," says Johns, leaning against the bars as he looks at them. David looks up from the cards in his hand, eyes immediately going to Cook to see his reaction, however, Cook is still glancing at David and not at Johns as he thought he would. For a split second, he worries if Cook will find someone else he might like better, someone he would trade out David for, when Johns continues, "I think there might be one for Tiemann there."

Cook smiles at David, having obviously seen his reaction, before turning to look at Johns. "What's his name?"

"Shit if I can remember, but he's pretty. Not as small as David here," says Johns, nodding in David's direction, "but small enough to probably need some protection in here. Anyway, he's in the line of being processed right now, but I can send him your way if you want. Just need to know now."

"Can you arrange for them to share cell?" asks Cook, grinning.

Johns lets out a loud laugh, apparently not caring at all if he's attracting attention from the other inmates around.

"What's it worth to you?" asks Johns, still smiling though looking a lot more ready for business. David looks at the guard, then back at Cook, awaiting Cook's response. The cell is silent for a couple of long seconds, almost as if they are all holding their breaths as they wait for Cook to make up his mind.

"The same as last time?" asks Cook with a small nod in David's direction. David's eyes widen, and he is not entirely sure if he should laugh or cry. The mention of money involved makes him feel a bit cheap, but then he looks at Cook – sees the apologetic smile and the need to be forgiven lingering in the air between them – and something inside his chest unclenches as he returns the smile.

"Sure. Cash or–"

"Andrew will wire them to you, okay?" says Cook before Johns gets a chance to complete his sentence. Johns looks at David for a moment before he leaves the cell.

"How much _did_ you pay for me?" he asks timidly the moment that Johns is so far away that he cannot hear the question, genuinely curious as to what the rate for a punk is in here.

Cook just smiles and leans closer, making David yelp in surprise as Cook grabs the cards from his hand and throws them on the floor as he pushes David down on the bed with a gentle but strong hand. Cook smirks as he moves until he is lying on top of him, their lips almost touching. David blinks, and Cook just hovers above him, arms on each side of his face, a knee wedged in between his parted legs. Cook does not answer his question, and part of David is glad and also a bit thankful that Cook refuses to tell him.

"Kiss me," he whispers, eyes lowering until his eyelashes rest against his cheeks. Cook looks at his lips, but makes no move to kiss him. When David finally opens his eyes completely again, he sees the challenge in Cook's eyes, sees the dare that lies hidden behind that look. He lifts his head, eyes locked with Cook's, and he does not close them until their lips are pressed together, his tongue hesitantly darting out to lick and pry Cook's lips apart. The kiss is slow, their tongues barely dancing together as Cook keeps moving a bit away every time David tries to deepen the kiss. David's neck hurts a bit, and finally— _finally_ —Cook presses into the kiss, making David's head fall back down on the pillow. The kiss gets deeper and faster, and their teeth bang clumsily together, but he does not care. It is perfect.

"Fuck," whispers Cook against his lips, both of them breathing fast and shallowly as they try to inhale and exhale properly. David's breath hitches in his throat, his heart beating so fast that he is momentarily concerned about it exploding inside his chest. "You make me so hard," murmurs Cook.

"You, um," he starts to say, but his words trail off as Cook grins knowingly. He blushes and closes his eyes, embarrassed. Cook grinds down against his thigh, rubbing his erection against David's leg, which also makes it possible for David to rub against Cook's leg that is still between his legs and _oh_. He moans, and moves just a little bit and then some more when Cook starts to whisper dirty encouraging words into his ear. "Fuck yeah. My dirty little slut. You love it, don't you?"

Normally he would blush at those words, but right now, in this moment, it kind of maybe, um, makes him hotter? He is not entirely sure what is happening, but when Cook stops for a few seconds to breathe, he finds himself _begging_ for Cook to continue. "More," he says, voice hoarse and kind of a bit squeaky.

Cook just groans, and a few seconds later; he picks up where he left off, telling David how fuckable he looks, how much he wants to fuck him up against the bars for every one to see. David presses himself up, forcing more pressure against his erection as he rubs himself against Cook.

They come in their pants, and Cook leans down to kiss David's breath away, gently sucking it out of him as he exhales the air from his lungs.

"Ugh," he says, when Cook moves away from him to lie down on his side next to him. Fingers dance idly on his stomach, making David squirm away, grinning. "It tickles," he says. Cook's hand stops just above his heart, poking him teasingly two times before sprawling his hand against the fabric of his shirt. David's heart beats picks up speed again.

"God, you are beautiful," says Cook.

David reaches up to touch Cook's face, loving the way that the slight beard scratches against the palm of his hand. "So are you," he says.

~

For some reason that David cannot comprehend, he has been chosen to go talk to the guy that Cook had picked out to be Tiemann's new punk. His name is Kyle, and as far as David has been able to gather, Kyle was apparently less than enthusiastic about agreeing to become Tiemann's punk when the tattooed inmate had propositioned just that.

The others – meaning Cook and Andy Skib – had quickly voted that David should go reason with Kyle before Tiemann would do something stupid like _force_ Kyle into submitting to him. David has no doubt that Tiemann would be capable of doing that, so though it was only reluctantly, he had still agreed to give it a try.

As he walks towards the cell, he kind of regrets agreeing to do this, like a whole lot. He briefly wonders why Kris is not the one to do it, but apparently that wasn't even a possibility? David is confused, but Cook asked him to do this, so he will try.

He stops just before the opening to the cell, nervously lingering there while trying to muster up some courage and maybe also some kind of speech that he can use. Truth be told, he is still not entirely sure what he can say that will convince this Kyle guy to give Tiemann a chance. He is so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he jumps back in surprise when a lean body appears at the opening of the cell, arms crossed over the chest and hair falling down along the cheeks, almost framing the face.

"I said no–" says Kyle at the same time that David says, "Can we talk?"

They look at each other for a couple of seconds, and David intertwines his fingers nervously as he glances everywhere but at Kyle. Finally, Kyle steps aside and gestures for David to enter the cell. David recognizes a few of Tiemann's things from their time together, and though it may appear like an oddly familiar gesture, he still finds himself touching the objects, and letting his fingers run over everything that he knows belong to the tattooed inmate.

"He's a good man, you know?" he says, though it comes out a bit more like a question. David knew he would be pathetically bad at this, and he silently questions again why he was the one who had to do this. Kyle remains silent, leaning against the wall with his arms still crossed over his chest. He tries again, this time aiming to say something that does not end with a question mark. "He, um. He may not look like it, but he is kind and sweet and he is good at the whole protection thing."

"Listen, whatever your name is," says Kyle, pushing away from the wall with his foot, arms dangling down along his sides. Long slender arms covered in the prison regulation shirt that all inmates wear, void of any visible tattoos as far as David can see. Though he has learned that even though he cannot see them, it does not mean that they are not there underneath the clothes.

"I've been in and out of juvie since I was like thirteen. Being in prison s'not that different. I can take care of myself. I don't want a babysitter," hisses Kyle, sounding far more angry than necessary. David wonders if maybe the speech was rehearsed; if maybe he has used it plenty of times before. He swallows, a feeling of sadness settling over him faster than he can help it.

"It's, um. It's David," he says quietly, though Kyle does not even seem to care.

"Fuck it. I don't _need_ a babysitter. I'm not a fucking punk." Kyle's voice breaks a bit in the end

David can hear the slight hitch in the voice, the barely there whimper, can hear how nervous Kyle really is.

"It's not bad, you know?" he says, touching Tiemann's bed, his hand rubbing unconsciously against the sheet. "I didn't think I could, um, be that way when I first got here."

Kyle huffs and tilts his head, looking bored.

"Sure, it um, it kind of sucks? Being the punk, I mean. But it's not all bad. In here, you kind of need to belong to a group, to have friends that can have your back–" and Kyle snorts at that, but David pretends he does not hear it, "–and in here, you need all the friends you can get."

"I don't need friends," says Kyle, but David just shakes his head.

"Everybody needs at least one friend," he replies, remembering the way that Kris had offered his friendship back when he had first gotten here.

They stand in silence for a couple of long, awkward moments. David chances a glance at Kyle when the other inmate looks away. No one told him how old Kyle is, but from the side, where he is caught off guard and his expression is relaxed, maybe, instead of angry, Kyle looks younger than David had first thought. He is maybe a bit older than David, but definitely not by much. Still, something in the way that Kyle carries himself makes him reluctant to ask.

Kyle lifts a hand, the fingers running through his long strands of brown hair, and that is when David notices something that no one definitely never mentioned. Kyle is married. Or was married at least, judging by the pale stripe of skin around his ring finger, the skin otherwise a tad sun-kissed from probably being outside a lot.

"Oh," he utters, and Kyle finally looks at him again. David stares at the hand, and Kyle must have realized what had caught David's attention, because he looks briefly at his hand before stuffing the hand deep into the pockets of his pants. "Um," says David, rendered speechless now for sure.

"What?" snaps Kyle at him, which makes David realize that he has been staring for far too long; definitely longer than was it considered polite. He blushes and looks away, his eyes immediately straying to Tiemann's bunk again, aware that this might be an impossible mission. However, he promised Cook to try, and he has to at least give it one more try, just so he can say that he did not give up right away.

"Maybe you are right," he says, and turns to look out in to cellblock, eyes straying to some of the other inmates in their cells on the other side of the room. "Maybe you can make it in here without, um, protection. But… I still think you need friends. So, yeah. Um. I can be your friend if you want?"

Kyle does not say anything, just huffs and crosses his arms over his chest once more. David nods once, feeling somewhat sad and disappointed.

"Listen," says Kyle finally, just as David is about to leave the cell. "Forget what you saw. In here, it's pointless anyway. I fucking know that. I just. I've taken care of myself for so long that I don't. I just don't trust anyone else to have my back. So thanks for your offer, but I don't know you and if you think offering your friendship will make me reconsider my decision, then you can just fuck off."

David winces, even after all this time, not completely used to the crude language yet.

"I um, I didn't have ulterior motives or anything. I just thought you could use a friend," he says, voice no more than a whisper.

Kyle watches him intensely, eyes turning into tiny slits as if he is trying to look inside David's brain.

"I guess we can try the friends thing," says Kyle, shrugging. "See how it goes."

David smiles, and after a couple of long moments, Kyle returns the smile.

~

When Kyle had said that he did not do the whole friends thing, David had kind of just assumed that it was all talk to get David to leave him alone. Though now, a bit more than a week later since their decision – or Kyle's more like, as David actually never really had a choice? – David has found out just how true Kyle had been.

Not that Kyle is mean or something. He's just kind of indifferent? Almost as if he does not even notice that David is there.

David looks at the other inmate sitting on a chair across the table from him, swiftly turning the pages in one of the library books, only stopping every once in a while to yawn before he continues to flip through the book with little regard to how fragile pages of paper really are. Kyle has yet to actually say anything since the hello he had muttered just before he had flopped down into the chair despite David's attempts to strike up a conversation several times.

Kyle yawns again and raises his arms high up in the air, stretching. David notices as the sleeve of his shirt falls down a bit – not much, but just enough to make it obvious that someone has tried to mess with Kyle again.

"You have a new bruise," he blurts out before he can stop himself. Kyle finally looks at him, looking like he has just noticed that David was sitting there.

"Well, you should see the other guy then," he says, a hint of a smirk on his lips. David wrinkles his nose; trying his hardest not to let it show on his face how sad he feels that Kyle refuses to accept protection. From what he has gathered from Cook, Tiemann is getting restless. Even Cook is starting to look at Kyle with this kind of gaze that David has only seen him use against people that he wishes to beat up. Part of David gets it though, or rather, he can maybe understand Cook's reaction a bit – which unnerves him a lot – seeing as Cook paid money to get them put in the same cell. He wonders when he started thinking like that; when he started to understand the whole punk and protector dynamic.

They once again fall back into the awkward silence, and David decides to close the book, as he cannot seem to concentrate. He places the book in the pile of other books that he has promised to bring back for Cook. Cook loves to read, and though David feels a bit intimidated when Cook tells him to bring back something for him, he still feels that thrill; the excitement, when Cook reads a book of David's choice and _loves_ it. The look on Cook's face when he's engrossed in a book that he finds fascinating is mesmerizing, and David loves to sit next to Cook and listen as he reads page after page for him, or to watch the crinkles around Cook's eyes when there is a line that he finds amusing.

"Don't you ever get tired of fighting?" asks David, quietly when Kyle once again looks at him.

"Don't think I've ever tried anything else. I'm used to it," answers Kyle, just as quietly as David had spoken before. David leans over the table, hand slowly reaching out to touch Kyle's hand that rests on the table.

"You don't have to fight alone though," he says. Kyle starts to pull his hand away, but David reflexively grabs a hold of it. Kyle huffs and pulls hard, his hand slipping out of David's hold with ease. David stares for a couple of seconds, completely forgetting how to even blink. Then, almost as if he snaps out of it, his eyes close and he breathes deeply. "Sorry," he says, and means it.

"I've never had anyone else fight my battles for me. True, I might not always come out victorious, but it's not in my nature to just give up and roll onto my back to the first guy who offers me…"

David pushes back from the chair, immediately rising. He stands there, momentarily stunned, eyes burning with unshed tears. He blinks, feeling like someone just knocked all the air out of his lungs. "I might be weak, and I might not be able to, um, fight my own battles and– but I'm not strong like you. And I like Cook, no, I love him. So something good came out of it."

Kyle stands as well, eyes big and so very wide. He looks remorseful. "Fuck, David–"

"Dang it! Stop swearing!" he yells, louder than he had intended. The other inmates who have also ventured into the library this afternoon all look at them, some of them enjoying David's despair more than others. He ignores them, and instead grabs the pile of books from the table, quickly walking to the other end of the library where the librarian, who is actually an inmate with special privileges, sits. He waits for the books to be scanned, chancing a look over his shoulder at Kyle who is once again sitting down, nose in a book.

Normally he would say goodbye – it is after all, only polite to say goodbye when leaving a room – but Kyle clearly ignores him, so David decides that he will ignore Kyle as well.

Kris and Andy are sitting in their cell, talking with Cook, when David returns.

"Pet," says Cook, quickly getting up, looking worried and angry at the same time.

"Just had a fight with Kyle," he whines pathetically, and Cook seems to relax for all but two seconds.

"What happened?" It is Kris who asks the question. David walks over to Cook, his arms going around Cook's waist as he hugs his boyfriend. Thankfully he is no longer crying. He is positive that if there are tears involved, Cook will not stay long enough to listen.

He is tempted to tell them exactly what had been said in the library, but for some reason, he finds himself saying instead, "I think he's afraid to depend on other people."

He looks up at Cook, which is almost an impossible feat as they stand so close that Cook's breath is dancing over his forehead every time he inhales and exhales. He manages though, and catches Cook's eyes. He has no idea what he is trying to tell Cook, but Cook just nods, almost as if he understands David's look; almost as if they had just had a non-verbal conversation that only Cook could understand.

"That's so sad," says Kris, his southern accent more heavy than usual. David does not hear what Andy Skib says in return, because Cook leans down to press a kiss against his lips and suddenly everything else is forgotten. When they part again, Kris and Andy Skib have left the cell, and David and Cook are the only ones there, David's arms still around Cook's waist. Cook's hands are now caressing his neck, fingers toying with the hair. They are warm against David's skin, and David smiles shyly when Cook smirks.

He shivers as Cook leans down to press a kiss against his neck, tongue darting out to lick just on top of the pulse, the blood in David's veins dancing with delight at the touch.

"Your mark is almost gone," murmurs Cook, voice filled with want and _oh gosh_. David's knees practically tremble as Cook sucks, teeth nibbling the skin, reddening the flesh until the mark has been renewed again.

"You sure you don't want a tattoo here," whispers Cook, pulling back to run a finger gently over the new hickey. David's breath hitches in his throat and it feels like something spasms inside his chest. It is a weird feeling, but not unpleasant – not unpleasant at all – and he feels all warm and quite positively loved. It is a wonderful feeling.

"You'd look so fucking pretty with my initials right here," he says, dabbing his finger against the bruised skin. David winces, but even though it hurts a tiny bit, his body still reacts to the touch. He blushes and Cook's smirk grows wider when he looks down between their bodies and sees how turned on David is.

"No, I…" he says, but stops to swallow, almost choking on air as Cook runs a nail over the sore spot, and all the hairs on his arms lifts in satisfaction. "I love it when you, um, you know." He says. Cook lifts and eyebrow, looking far too amused at the situation. "I love it when you mark me," he admits, lowering his eyes bashfully.

"Fuck pet, and I love marking you."

Cook turns him around, and David briefly catches a glimpse of half-long brown hair before he is pressed against the wall, Cook's one arm going around his middle as the other hand continues to touch David all over, gently letting his fingers dance over David's skin until he feels like he might just go mad. He gulps and finds himself pushing slightly back towards Cook's body.

"I'm going to fuck you up against the wall," murmurs Cook, voice low and flirty. David whines.

"People will see," he says, though that does not stop him from leaning back into the touch and he does not try to stop Cook either when a big, warm, calloused hand goes down into his pants.

"So?" says Cook, grinning against his neck. "Most have already seen us in the showers together."

It is a valid point, but it still doesn't make David feel any better about it. Cook, almost as if sensing David's hesitation, pulls at David, turns him and then pushes him towards the wall on the other side of the cell. Here, they will be partly hidden by the bunk beds, and David feels a bit better now that the other inmates will not be able to see his face.

"Better?" asks Cook, sounding genuinely concerned. David smiles, and turns his head as much as he can, leaning closer to catch Cook's mouth. It is an awkward kiss and David only manages to catch Cook's lower lip from this angle, so he bites down gently on the flesh, sucking it into his mouth and licking it. Cook groans, an animalistic sound escaping his lips and then they are back again, strong hands pulling at his bottom to bare his skin.

David's hands rest on the wall, the concrete blocks cold and rough under his hands. He uses the wall for support, his head thrown back as Cook prepares him, one, two, three slick fingers rubbing his insides. David has no idea when Cook grabbed the gel they use for lubrication, but when he looks down, he first sees his pants around his ankles and not that far away is a tiny package that used to contain the gel. Cook must have had it in his pants, he thinks, and then his mind goes blank as Cook retracts his fingers and replaces the empty void with his penis.

~

A couple of weeks later, Kyle shows up to dinner with a huge bruise on the left side of his chin. It looks painful, and David winces in sympathy, his own chin hurting just by looking at it. He can only imagine how it must feel.

He is amazed that Kyle continues to decline – or rather, use not so sophisticated words (last time there had been lots of swearing, way too much for David's like) – whenever the suggestion of accepting Tiemann's offer is mentioned.

Kyle, for some reason, seems to be prone to accidents. Though they are not really accidents, David knows. The inmates prod at Kyle, push him around, and David knows that this is where the two of them definitely differ. Personally, he would have given up long ago – in fact, he gave up rather, maybe even pathetically in some people's opinion, quickly – but Kyle! Kyle seems to like egging them on, almost as if he thrives on it, like he gets a kick out of fighting.

"Ouch," says Kris, mirroring David's wince, when he sits down at the table, two trays of food placed on the table. Andy Skib grabs one of them, pulling it closer, and Kris pulls the other one closer to himself. David watches Kyle watching it, and catches the look of disdain on his face.

Him and Cook are different than Andy Skib and Kris though. Normally it is Cook who carries the trays while David loads them with food. He realizes that Kris' way of acting is exactly what Kyle hates about the whole punk-system. David glances at Tiemann who is still standing in line, talking with Castro about something, the dreadlocked inmate looking slightly perplexed and uncertain to how to act around Tiemann. David pities Jason Castro, because everyone knows that Tiemann is not the most, well, um, friendly guy.

"Just one more week," says Cook, and David turns his head to look at Cook. His boyfriend is looking at Andy Skib, and David follows Cook's gaze until he is looking at the dark-haired inmate as well.

Kris leans against Andy Skib's shoulder, and David smiles fondly at the display, finding himself lean slightly against Cook's side as well. Kyle huffs on the other side of the table, but David tries to ignore it. This is about Andy Skib.

"Are you excited?" asks David, picking up his glass of juice.

"It'll be nice getting out of here," replies Andy Skib, voice curt and low, looking at Kris for a brief moment before finally looking at David. David's smile falters just a bit. Andy Skib leaving means that Kris will be alone. Well, not technically alone. Cook and Tiemann will both take care of him, they promised, but David knows that Kris is worried. Understandably so, David thinks, fully knowing that he would be too, if Cook were to leave this place before him. In fact, the weeks they spent apart when Cook had been thrown in dissociation were horrible, and the thought of not seeing him ever again until when they are both on the other side of these walls makes him feel a bit sick to his stomach.

"Gotta' be fucking awesome man, to leave this place behind," comments Kyle, completely ignoring the looks that he receives.

"I suppose," says Andy Skib, eyes narrowing into tiny slits as he regards Kyle with this cool lofty look that makes David glad that he is not on the receiving end of it. "Though it will naturally be with mixed feelings. I am, after all, leaving behind friends." Kris lowers his head at the last word, and David can see that the other inmate blush somewhat at the words.

"But you'll get out soon too, though, right?" asks David, trying to turn this into something positive. It is, after all, a good thing for Andy Skib and part of him feels like they ought to at least acknowledge that, no matter how sad it is that Kris will still be in here while his boyfriend is outside of these walls.

"Yes, uh," says Kris, a hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. David has noticed that he does that a lot when he is nervous. "I have my parole hearing next month, so if everything goes as it should, I'll probably be out of here in a month or two. But, yeah. You never know. I might not get approved for my parole."

David offers his friend a smile, reaching out a hand to gently squeeze Kris's other hand that still lies on the table. "Everything will be fine," he promises, even though he has no clue how it will all turn out. But he hopes Kris will get his parole, hopes so much that his heart my burst with want for this to happen.

"Yeah," says Cook, smiling as well. Kris' face relaxes, and David's smile softens.

Kyle snorts and starts to eat his food. David looks at Kris who is smiling, though he seems a bit… well, hurt maybe, kind of like he is trying not to let Kyle get to him. David kind of wants to kick Kyle across his shin. Childish? Yes, maybe, and definitely also out of his character, he knows, but Kyle needs to learn that he should not be mean to people. He ignores the irony of the fact that they are in prison. If he closes his eyes, he can sometimes forget that he is in here, and he figures that it works as well if he tries his best to think of this as if they are on the outside. However, he does not get a chance to act on his desire to kick – not that he would ever actually do it, as his mom taught him never to be violent – as Tiemann approaches the table.

"What the fuck," says Tiemann when he places his tray down next to Kyle, finally having made it out of the line. David watches as Tiemann sits, a hand reaching out to grab Kyle's chin and forces Kyle to turn his head so he can see the entirety of the bruise that now graces Kyle's face. Kyle winces and tries to pull away, but David can see that Tiemann has a good grip on the other inmate, a grip that he knows from personal experience can be difficult to break free from.

Cook has the same kind of grip when he wants to, and this is just another reminder how close the two of them are. Even though David knows that they are merely friends, he still feels that spark of jealousy hit him whenever he thinks of the intimacy of their relationship. Mostly emotionally wise, but he knows from experience that they have also been intimate _intimate_ before. At least in here, but he has his suspicions that they might have been so on the outside as well, though he is too afraid to ask Cook, mainly because he isn't sure if he actually wants to know?

"Who hurt you?" asks Tiemann, and David blinks, realizing that he had momentarily zoned out a bit. Cook nudges him with his elbow, and David turns to find Cook smirking at him and wriggling his eyebrows in that weird way that makes David laughs. It does this time too, but Cook just continues to smirk and nods inconspicuously to Tiemann and Kyle who are in a heated debate about Kyle not wanting to share the information about his bruise.

"None of your business. I'm not your punk, so fuck off," says Kyle, but David can hear that his voice does not have the same kind of bite to it, like it usually has. Almost as if he does not mind that Tiemann is meddling in his business, despite what he says.

"No, but you're my cellie," says Tiemann, as if that matters. David thinks it is maybe a bit weak of an argument, and Kyle must think so too, because he just rolls his eyes. However, Kyle does not turn his face away when Tiemann's grip loosens and instead moves his fingers to touch the sore spot almost tenderly.

Cook nudges him again and lifts his eyebrow; obviously trying to communicate silently with David, except, um, David is not entirely sure what he is supposed to say. Cook makes a face.

"Oh, um," he says, when he suddenly realizes what Cook is trying to make him say. "We're all friends. I know you didn't really, um, want to be friends, but we, err, are now. We're all just concerned? I mean, we don't want you to be hurt." Cook made him practice saying this, though he has a distinct feeling that he did not managed to get it all right. Still, Cook looks pleased, so he figures he might have said some of the right stuff, or at least enough of it.

Kyle pulls away from Tiemann's hand and eyes him warily for a couple of seconds.

"I suppose," he finally says.

"Yeah," says Kris, jumping in to save David. "You're one of us now, Kyle. You kind of have been since you got here, and you know it, so there's no point in trying to deny it. We don't want anyone to hurt you if we can prevent it. That's all there is to it."

Kyle rises from his seat, and David fears that maybe they went a bit overboard. He cannot understand why Tiemann cannot just find another punk, but for some reason the tattooed inmate has set his eyes on Kyle and refuses to give up. David suspects that he maybe kind of likes the chase – a lot. Because he has been less, um, sulky (maybe?) since Kyle got here, and even though he is being turned down constantly by Kyle, he kind of seems a bit happier than David has ever seen him before.

"You don't have to fight alone," says David. He knows it is kind of horrible of him to use Kyle's own words against him, and as soon as the words have left his mouth, he feels bad and wishes that he could take them back. This is one of the things that he does not like about Cook and Tiemann and maybe even Andy Skib as well. They are prepared to say and do anything in order to get what they want, and now David is doing that as well _for_ them.

Cook places an arm around his waist, dexterous letting his fingers run up and down David's side, making him squirm a bit in his seat. He tries to tell himself that he has to do it, that he is Cook's punk and this is prison – in here, you play your part in order to survive, though it no longer feels like a part. He loves Cook, and he would do anything for him, only thing is that Cook would also do anything for Tiemann, which is why he is currently in this situation. He thinks maybe it is a bit unfair to Kyle, but Cook had been insistent, immediately telling David to use that line the moment they had shared his and Kyle's conversation with his boyfriend after they had, um, _finished_.

Kyle glances at him, looking torn between storming off and sitting down again. Finally, after a tug on his sleeve from Tiemann, he settles back down in his seat.

"They want me to deal their drugs for them," he finally admits, and David finds himself looking around in the cafeteria even though he has no idea who _they_ are. "I told them no. I'm not fucking dealing with drugs anymore."

"Is dealing the reason why you ended up in here?" asks Kris, looking sympathetic, leaning forward in his seat. David looks back at Kyle, swallowing. He has never asked Kyle why he was here. It seems almost too personal to know why anyone is in here. The reason why any of them is in here is after all a part of their history. Personally, David is ashamed of what he did, even though it was technically an accident. It had all happened so fast – too fast for David to even react properly – and then his fate was sealed because he got a lawyer who was, in Cook's words, shitty. He normally does not believe in talking bad about people, but even he has to agree here. Except, as he tries to tell himself when he wakes in the middle of the night from a nightmare of the incident, if he had never ended up here, he would never have met Cook. Or Kris or Andy Skib or even Tiemann.

"A kid OD'ed on it and died. They said it was my fault because I was his dealer. Not my fault my supplier gave me a bad product."

"Who wants you to deal?" asks Tiemann, sounding… well. David thinks that angry is the best word for Tiemann's low and dangerous tone right now. He instinctively huddles closer to Cook, and Cook wraps his arm around him without a word. Like they just fit, like a jigsaw puzzle maybe, he thinks, a soft smile gracing his lips. Cook squeezes his hip fondly.

Kyle nods towards a table, and David recognizes some of the face. It is a group though, of men that he is not familiar with, and judging by their appearance and, um, tattoos too, he is glad that he has never needed to associate with them. He does not know why they are in prison, but something tells him that whatever it is, they are definitely guilty, very much so. It is mean to judge people on their appearance, he knows that, and he also knows that his mom would maybe tell him to behave in Spanish if she knew that he did that, however he cannot help himself.

Tiemann gets up and walks resolutely towards the table, not a care in the world that he is walking into a dangerous zone where he is outnumbered four to one. Cook's hand falls from David's hip, and David watches as Cook stands up, hands clenching into fists as he prepares himself to have Tiemann's back if he needs it. David on the other hand, prepares himself to disappear if anything should happen. A shared look with Kris tells him that the other inmate is doing the same as him. Andy Skib too, which David definitely can understand as Andy Skib is leaving next week, and he does not need to be implicated in any prison related fights as they might fuck up everything for him.

David cannot hear what is being said, but Tiemann looms over one of the guys and they nod their heads, almost in sync. Then Tiemann turns, points towards Kyle. David looks away from the spectacle to watch Kyle, who in return looks a bit flustered. Voices are being raised, and it ends with Tiemann punching one of the men on the jaw.

Johns and three other guards appear by the table quickly, calming the situation before the other inmate gets a chance to lay a punch on Tiemann.

None of them are being escorted out of the cafeteria; however, Johns is pushing Tiemann back to their table while the other three guards are trying to calm the hurt inmate. Johns has his black truncheon drawn and ready to be used in case any of the inmates should try anything.

"That was stupid, Tiemann," says Johns, but David swears – except he does not really swear – that he can see a twinkle in Johns' eyes, like he finds it amusing.

"He punched Kyle," sneers Tiemann.

Johns just raises an eyebrow.

Cook sits down next to David again, and David relaxes. He notices out of the corner of his eye that Kris and Andy Skib shares a look before getting up, leaving them without a word.

"I don't see why that's any of your concern," says Johns, sounding impatient.

"Kyle's a friend," is all Tiemann says.

Kyle looks curious and maybe also a bit embarrassed.

Johns leaves them, and the guard is barely out of sight when the other inmate says, loud enough for any inmates sitting close by to hear it, "Thanks _Neal_ , but this doesn't mean that I'll be your punk."

David cannot help but let out a short laugh at the absurdity of it all. They had been trying to make Kyle pliant to the idea, yet he seemed to know exactly what they had been up to. Still, he sounded pleased, so maybe the idea had worked just a bit after all.

"Wanna' play cards?" asks Kyle, looking at David. David glances down at his barely touched food, and nods. He is not really hungry. He pushes his tray towards Cook, and gets up.

"See you soon?" he asks, looking down at Cook.

"Yeah, stay in one of the cells," says Cook, pushing David's tray into the middle of the table so he can share it with Tiemann as well. David nods and without much thought does an awkward wave as well. He has no idea why he did it, but still blushes when Kyle teases him about it all the way back to Kyle's and Tiemann's cell. Yes, they are definitely getting closer to being friends, he thinks, and playfully elbows Kyle's arm, making the other inmate stumble a bit.

~

Kris is sad that Andy Skib is now gone but refuses to show it, telling David that he needs to focus on his upcoming hearing for his parole, which means that the southern inmate is spending quite a lot of time with his lawyer, going over his testimony and whatnot. David is not completely sure what is required. He is sad though, not just that Andy Skib is gone, but that Kris whom he _knows_ is sad does not even have time to dwell on the fact that his boyfriend and protector has left. But mostly, as egoistical as it sounds, he just kind of feels sorry for himself, because even though he still has Cook, he misses Kris' company more than he ever thought he would. A small part of him dreads the day where Kris will get his parole – which David knows for sure he will get as Kris is like one of those model-inmates who have no fights on his records.

Kris is not the only one sad about Andy Skib leaving the prison. Cook is sad, though he tries not to show it, but David knows, because Cook is even more protective of him than usual, never leaving his side for more then a few minutes at a time. He is not entirely sure if Tiemann's is sad as well, as he has only seen him at meal times in the last couple of days. This also reminds him that it has been a while since he last hung out with Kyle.

Andrew, Cook's younger brother whom David thinks is pretty awesome – if maybe a little weird sometimes, but still really fun and sweet – is visiting Cook today, so for the first time in weeks, David is all by himself. It feels weird sitting in his cell alone, so he decides to go find Kyle, hoping to maybe be able to persuade the other inmate to go with him to the library. Cook prefers that he does not go anywhere alone, so David really hopes that Kyle will go with him so he does not have to ask Tiemann.

Cook keeps telling him to just call him Neal, but for some reason David cannot really make himself use the name as he has gotten used to saying Tiemann. It does not help either that Tiemann had been sitting next to them had made a face when Cook had told David that he was actually allowed to call him Neal.

He leaves the cell, eyes quickly scanning the area before stepping out completely. Then he heads to Kyle's and Tiemann's cell.

"Hi David," says Castro when he passes him. David smiles and nods in return, muttering a small hello in return.

He hears the noises before he makes it to the cell. He pauses a few feet away from the cell, swiftly looking around to make sure that no one is behind him. Then he hears noises again, and realizes that they are coming from the cell. He walks slowly and silently until he can look inside the cell.

A gasp pushes past his lips before he can stop it. _Oh gosh_.

Tiemann has Kyle up against the wall, pants down and um. David steps back quickly, leaning against the wall as he tries to stop blushing. Kyle – it is definitely Kyle, thinks David, recognizing the voice – moans inside the cell and David swallows and hurries away back to his own cell.

He feels flustered and embarrassed and also, maybe just a tiny bit turned on. He presses the heel of his palm against his erection, willing himself to not be turned out by the display he had seen. It is wrong to, um, listen to other people having, um, gosh, having like sex! He knows that.

He has calmed down completely when Cook returns half an hour later, looking cheerful, carrying a package of something under his arm.

"Andrew brought a batch of my mom's cookies," he says, grinning widely.

"Cookies aren't good for you," chides David, but still accepts one when Cook holds out one for him. It's good. In fact, it is very, very good, he thinks.

"Fuck," says Cook, voice all strange and low and, um, David looks up and sees the heated look in Cook's eyes, the way he breathes funnily. David crooks his head, looking confused at Cook.

"You are so hot, pet," says Cook, sitting down on the bed next to David, a hand starting to run up and down his thigh, the batch of cookies momentarily forgotten on the bed next to David. He blushes as Cook leans closer, taking a bite of David's cookie, their eyes locked together. David feels like he cannot possibly look away, but he does not care, because he does not _want_ to look away. His breath hitches in his throat, and he feels this weird kind of butterfly-like feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Cook's fingers curl around David's hand, mouth moving down to take the last part of the cookie, lips closing around David's fingers in the process. He whines, completely breathless by now.

"Want another one?" asks Cook, lifting an eyebrow, grinning. David just nods, and Cook leans over him to grab another cookie from the box. This time it is Cook who holds it, and David takes a bite from it when Cook presses it against his parted lips. He lowers his eyelashes coyly and watches as Cook takes a bite from the cookie as well.

Normally, he would have been too embarrassed to ever do anything like this, but Cook seems to bring out the want in him; the side that craves and begs for touches and smiles and – Cook's hand on his thigh moves to cup the slight bulge in David's pants, and David moans and lifts his hips just a bit, pressing against the warm hand.

"Cook," he breathes, close to almost sobbing, too caught in the moment to be embarrassed about his reaction.

Cook hushes him and presses the last piece of the cookie into David's mouth. David catches the fingers with his teeth, licking the tips quietly, looking at Cook.

"I want you right now," whispers Cook, and David nods.

They are about five seconds from maybe quite possibly tearing each other's clothes off when Kris appears outside of their cell. He looks just as surprised as David had felt an hour ago when he had accidentally walked in on Tiemann and Kyle going at it.

Cook groans, looking like he might just still continue with what they are doing despite the fact that they now have an audience, but David pushes him away, embarrassed, though with a smile and a silent promise that they will continue after lights out.

"Sorry, I can, err, I can leave?" says Kris quickly, though it comes out more as a question, looking away as Cook gets up from the bed and adjusts himself in his pants. David clears his throat and grabs his pillow, covering his groin, blushing as Cook just smirks at him.

"Sorry," says Kris, a hint of a smirk on his lips, like he finds it amusing. David just finds it incredibly, um, awkward. Still, he gestures for Kris to come in and sit down on the bed. Kris does so, claiming the spot next to David that Cook had just gotten up from.

There is a pregnant pause where none of them say anything. It is uncomfortable, so David takes the box containing the cookies that Cook had gotten from Andrew, and offers Kris one. Cook gives him a heated look, and David lowers his eyes and closes them until his eyelashes rest against his cheeks, trying to collect himself.

"These are good," says Kris, munching away on a cookie. David just nods, feeling like he has got a toad stuck in his throat. Cook laughs and leans down, hand resting just above David's knee as he grabs a cookie with his other hand from the box.

"Yes, they are, aren't they?" asks Cook. David looks up, eyes going wide for a split second as Cook claims a kiss from him. It is a relatively sweet and innocent kiss. No tongues, just two sets of lips pressing together in a familiar way. David loves it.

"How did your meeting with your lawyer go?" asks Cook. David blinks, dazed and maybe also a bit disoriented, and realizes that Cook is now standing up against the wall a couple of feet away from him

"Good. She sounds positive, thinks that if I just stick to my statement and ace the physiological test that I'll be out of here in a couple of weeks."

David smiles, "That's good news!"

Cook nods. "That's awesome dude. I bet Andy will be thrilled to see you on the outside."

Kris frowns. David looks up at Cook, and Cook, well, he pushes away from the wall and looms over Kris. "You are going to see him on the outside, right?"

"What if things are different on the outside?" asks Kris, sounding so very young and scared.

Cook's face softens, and David reaches out tentatively, hand grasping Kris' hand, squeezing it gently, hoping that Kris will find it comforting.

"You owe it to yourself to give it a chance at least," he says, looking briefly at Cook before looking back at Kris who just nods, looking so confused.

"Everything will be the same on the outside – better, even, I think. You'll see," says Cook, leaving no room for arguing. Kris does not look like he wants to argue, let alone like he wants to talk anymore, so David says the first thing that comes to his mind.

"They are, um, doing it," he blurts out.

"What?" asks Cook, looking perplexed.

"I was going to ask, um, Kyle if he wanted to go to the library with me, but he was busy with, um, oh my heck, he was busy with Tiemann." The words leave him so fast that he feels almost exhausted when he has finally said it.

"You mean?" asks Cook, smirking.

"I think so?"

"That's good though, right?" asks Kris.

David shrugs and Cook laughs.

"What are you laughing about?" asks Tiemann, suddenly standing in the doorway, glancing at the three of them. David giggles and Kris holds up a hand in front of his mouth, trying to hide his amusement. Cook, however, just walks over to Tiemann and throws an arm around his shoulder, forcing him to step into the cell.

"We are laughing at you, you dog," says Cook, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. Tiemann just stares at him, not looking at all amused.

The entire situation gets even more funny when Kyle shows up, looking at the four of them: Cook laughing, David and Kris trying to stop laughing and Tiemann, well, Tiemann is just looking like he is about five seconds from killing them all with his bare hands. David sees the hands clench and unclench, but for some reason he just finds it even more so amusing and leans against Kris to bury his face in the crook of Kris' neck.

"What the fuck?" says Kyle.

"They know," is all Tiemann says, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Hey," says Kyle, taking a step forward, pointing at them one by one, his finger moving in the air as he tries to decide whom to focus on. "This doesn't mean I'm his punk though, just so we are all clear."

Tiemann snorts, and Kyle huffs, annoyed.

The bell rings, signalling that it's time for dinner. Cook grabs his arm as David gets up from the bed, and together they watch as the other three inmates leave the cell, heading towards the cafeteria.

"Tonight," says Cook, smiling as he leans down to kiss David's mark on the neck. "Tonight we'll continue what we started earlier before we were so rudely interrupted."

David swallows and nods, kind of, um, already looking forward to lights out. "Promise?" he asks, perhaps a little too eager. Cook turns them around and pushes him up against the wall.

"Got my word," is the answer, short and precise and so full of promises that it makes David shiver with anticipation and _want_. In fact, he hardly even feels hungry anymore.

~

The sky is a gorgeous blue, barely any clouds in sight. Now that summer is over again, the weather is turning a bit colder, especially in the afternoons, but as long as it's not raining, David won't complain. Not that he really complains when it rains. But Cook complains, which means that they end up staying in their cell rather than going out and get their daily amount of fresh air. Honestly, David doesn't care what the weather is like, as long as he gets to be outside.

He tries to imagine himself on the outside again, and closes his eyes to better be able to picture it all. It is weird to think that he will be out of here in two months time, that he has already been in here for more than a year. He wonders if he will see Andy Skib and Kris again. Last he heard from them, they were living together in an apartment, though the letter had been vague to say the least.

"David, what are you doing?" asks Cook, moving so close that David can feel him against his shoulder.

"Shuush," he says, cracking an eye open to look at Cook, smiling widely, "I'm thinking of the future."

Cook's warm hand reaches out to touch his cheek, "Am I in your future?"

David smiles and closes his eyes again, imaging how things are supposed to be. Him and Cook standing in front of a house with a small garden, a dog running around, waggling its tail, just like Cook had told him, and the sun is shining bright and there's a gentle breeze against his skin.

"Yeah, you're right next to me," he says, opening his eyes to look at Cook again.

Cook smiles, the smile reaching his eyes and making him look so much more handsome than David has ever seen him before. Cook's eyes flicker down to his lips, and David unconsciously licks them, knowing what's coming next.

When they kiss, it's not rough or quick, but rather a slow, gentle kiss that makes David want to smile and sigh at the same time.

 _fin._


End file.
